This is a song about "Jars of crafts"

Just got up and screamed, fuck the world

Of being of always getting wired

There ain't no genie jars to grant what your petty wishes are

Huhhuhhuhhuhumy double r proves i’ma big rap star

Furniture made of the flesh of my foes

With this rap shit, you know i do the fucking most

Thoughts of immortality

I reel them in, goadomes on see

Of that gangja from the shores of shanghai

Them other niggas smoke, they ain't this high

Nowadays usually it's his pockets

King of the va, off of those toxins.

I've got muslims calling on jesus

Raybands...hide the face of,

A little more of me through generation of a debate of hatred

Coconuts ciroc where puff at, never fall in love, don't cuff that