This is a song about "Jars of crafts"

Thoughts of immortality

Hopin' that my niggas see

Illusion of days of elysium fields full of gladiators

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

Blast masses a cast to cover crafts.

But it made me the man i am today, thanks

Pocket racked up all big faces

Raybands...hide the face of,

Or now they don't praise enough

Of which im not exactly proud of,

You reflect in this heart of mine

Ahead of his years, ahead of his time,

Tired of feeling wired of dealing

And this will be the song that we sing

Of the book of your life

Inferior, but i'm nice