This is a song about "Jars of crafts"

This summer gone be mine though

Return of the king of flow

Of being of always getting wired

Before a nigga finish put in the work

And where we've come and how we still have to go really far

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

But i can't cause my eyes are red, now he's dead

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

King of the va, off of those toxins.

Cause the media is full of dirty tricks

Let me breathe hard like it was hard

Your yard, full of pieces of lard

Rub titties in his face and laugh

Blast masses a cast to cover crafts.

Couple of shots and a glass of wine.

Start whine, my gyal, start whine