This is a song about "Jars of crafts"

Dc cabs got my pops alright

Out of mind out of sight

Jars upon jars, but yet no jam for the bread.

Cop me air ones, hon, lime and red

While she blame mesecrets in tha dark

Your yard, full of pieces of lard

Top of my pile of bodies

I'm hot breeze, snot sneeze

Of which im not exactly proud of,

Cause my thing something vicious

For all the killas and the 100 dollar hoes

Furniture made of the flesh of my foes

Or know them testament verses

The things im most scared of

That's how this shit be goin when you go for number one

Got the eye of tiger, spit of cobra, form of a dragon