This is a song about "Jars of crafts"

Odd future is children that's fucked up in they mental

Defendants of a meddle, restless full of potential

You can call me cancer but i don't smoke cigarettes

Thoughts of us of everything of everyone's debts

Illusion of days of elysium fields full of gladiators

And ain't it shameful, how niggas blame hoes for givin' birth

I get mine and i bounce like a bad check

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

Let's enjoy our younger years

Out of this coviction of feelings

I like it cause she a ten, but she say i'm the one

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

People love hodgy i hate you though

Return of the king of flow

I'm everything that they call nice

Top of my pile of bodies