This is a song about "Jars of crafts"

I'm everything that they call nice

Top of my pile of bodies

Mama made her pretty

Thoughts of immortality

Chasing money in the city of crime

Ahead of his years, ahead of his time,

Pocket racked up all big faces

Of which im not exactly proud of,

Most of y'all drop quick cause of impatience,

I'm through trial, no more smiles, for a couple years

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

It's ironic cause i always hear you talking about one

Nigga i'm the shit, i've doing this since knee high

Of that gangja from the shores of shanghai

My criteria ain't even that serious

Cause america the terror of,