This is a song about "Jars of crafts"

Top of my pile of bodies

Right flows down and they might go nice

Coconuts ciroc where puff at, never fall in love, don't cuff that

A little more of me through generation of a debate of hatred

You could ask her ass, i would dash and laugh

Blast masses a cast to cover crafts.

Couple of shots and a glass of wine.

So the mind they mine don't coincide with mine

But he don't rule a thing

Feeling, of appealing

It's all for the thought of havin' more than required

Of being of always getting wired

Furniture made of the flesh of my foes

Best believe i'm leaving with more of those

Just seen another brother buried plus i knew him for years

Illusion of days of elysium fields full of gladiators