This is a song about "Jars of crafts"

Defendants of a meddle, restless full of potential

Forever i ain't run yet and i never will

Illusion of days of elysium fields full of gladiators

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

Furniture made of the flesh of my foes

Sorta like drano...you know how the game goes

Ahead of his years, ahead of his time,

Gucci rocking his gold rollie, i'm rocking mine

Blasting out some backyard

Your yard, full of pieces of lard

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

Of the book of your life

And when i start to rise

And where we've come and how we still have to go really far

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