This is a song about "Jars of crafts"

Cause this nigga done got jealous

Of which im not exactly proud of,

Alot of niggas fake who go to hard

Your yard, full of pieces of lard

You send me beats via email, i'mma send them back in a hearse

Illusion of days of elysium fields full of gladiators

Got her going down, no teeth

Top of my pile of bodies

Of that gangja from the shores of shanghai

Cuz they all broken, why do ghetto birds die

Probably seen meaner bars probably in the feds

Thoughts of us of everything of everyone's debts

Furniture made of the flesh of my foes

No bullshit, every shy bitch can get a rose

Of potential cases

That's why i shine like i does