This is a song about "Jars of crafts"

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

Furniture made of the flesh of my foes

Or know them testament verses

The things im most scared of

Of being of always getting wired

I woke up screaming, fuck the world

King of the va, off of those toxins.

Fuck, clean up on aisle six

Of which im not exactly proud of,

Or now they don't praise enough

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

Tired of hearin' these voices in my head

When i die tell them to turn my coffin to stretch benz

Thoughts of us of everything of everyone's debts

Snitches here don't got no heart

Your yard, full of pieces of lard