This is a song about "Jars of crafts"

But there's nothing else inside

Out of mind out of sight

Every time i walk inside the house, she always tend to start shit

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

Raybands...hide the face of,

Ships that sail to distant places

I wonder why, i sit and cry

Of that gangja from the shores of shanghai

Tired of feeling wired of dealing

Give me a reason why i'm not the best breathing

Your yard, full of pieces of lard

From the time that you stole my heart

Roll up and inhale, i live next to denzel

Defendants of a meddle, restless full of potential

Know it good when she go no hands

Blast masses a cast to cover crafts.