This is a song about "Jars of crafts"

Illusion of days of elysium fields full of gladiators

Africa and europe, it's a small world we truly neighbors

Most of y'all drop quick cause of impatience,

But love my music, say i do nothing but hits

Blast masses a cast to cover crafts.

I was like dr. dre, though, i have to laugh

Alot of niggas fake who go to hard

Your yard, full of pieces of lard

Like hoes down in magic city

Thoughts of immortality

Bun b, i’m underground king

Feeling, of appealing

Of the book of your life

I used to have a nine to five

And you call this shit rape but i think that rape's fun

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