This is a song about "Jars of crafts"

Of the book of your life

What we gotta do to survive

Right flows down and they might go nice

Top of my pile of bodies

Six-fifty, three hundred my shirt free

Beaches of normandy.

I know my calling's worth like phone card

Your yard, full of pieces of lard

Of that gangja from the shores of shanghai

Where did my time go? i let it fly

My shirt, purple label my shirt

Of being of always getting wired

Defendants of a meddle, restless full of potential

O.f. is the coldest thing, and i'm the fuckin' general

Most of y'all drop quick cause of impatience,

Flowerbomb, let me guess your favorite fragrance