This is a song about "Jars of crafts"

Ahead of his years, ahead of his time,

Ye' and killa cam', the world is mine

Look, i'm back like niggas on a bus

Cause america the terror of,

Illusion of days of elysium fields full of gladiators

You send me beats via email, i'mma send them back in a hearse

Of being of always getting wired

That bitch was racist, got me fired

Feeling, of appealing

Money ain't a thing

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

Thats why we're always goin and we don't gotta go with them

Out of mind out of sight

But you can't hide

Thoughts of immortality

They say nothings ever free