This is a song about "Jars of crafts"

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

Still standin' and in love with my prideheard frivolous beats, we past that

Before a nigga finish put in the work

Of being of always getting wired

But there's nothing else inside

Out of mind out of sight

Hopin' that my niggas see

Thoughts of immortality

Africa and europe, it's a small world we truly neighbors

Illusion of days of elysium fields full of gladiators

Thoughts of us of everything of everyone's debts

Help me pay my little rent, maybe sit in a benz

Furniture made of the flesh of my foes

Big money, i’m talking bad hoes

We was high school peers, in junior high

Of that gangja from the shores of shanghai