This is a song about "Jars of crafts"

Of the book of your life

Ma want me to go find a wife

Or know them testament verses

Of potential cases

A working genius, a work of art

Your yard, full of pieces of lard

Of being of always getting wired

Know i meant, every motherfuckin word

Out of mind out of sight

Neither black nor white

She vying for number one, tryna be number one

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

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

Defendants of a meddle, restless full of potential

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