This is a song about "Jars of crafts"

Notice it every time i pick up the microphone and spit

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

So please step aside

Out of mind out of sight

Tired of feeling wired of dealing

She was so stuck, a fool in love with the wrong thing

Cause america the terror of,

Then i said i had enough

Of which im not exactly proud of,

Look, i'm back like niggas on a bus

And just in time your head is mine

Ahead of his years, ahead of his time,

For that living large, but mama i ain't done yet

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

Fucking chin-checkin' punks 'til he's outta breath and done

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