This is a song about "Jars of crafts"

Always knew where the pot was

The things im most scared of

Tired of feeling wired of dealing

And this will be the song that we sing

Illusion of days of elysium fields full of gladiators

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

Out of mind out of sight

And you're, approaching me right

On the slow jam of love

Raybands...hide the face of,

Beaches of normandy.

Cause some of you bitches funny

Furniture made of the flesh of my foes

X's and o's, you must be the rose

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

I say i put it so deep now she a cone head