This is a song about "Jars of crafts"

Now i don’t know if you was trying to check

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

Tired of feeling wired of dealing

Get off a key like i can’t sing

Hope all over again, we can start

Your yard, full of pieces of lard

Here i go again, searching for love

Of which im not exactly proud of,

Furniture made of the flesh of my foes

Man i swear she's bad and she knows

Out of this coviction of feelings

Who know this be the life that i really live

There ain't no genie jars to grant what your petty wishes are

Weekend trippin to wherever, only heaven is far

Thoughts of us of everything of everyone's debts

Everybody coming home deserve a white benz