This is a song about "Jars of crafts"

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

We can count the stars on the hood in your father's car

Everybody coming home deserve a white benz

Thoughts of us of everything of everyone's debts

Top of my pile of bodies

Five shots she ready to leave

Your yard, full of pieces of lard

I know my calling's worth like phone card

Got it matching though

Return of the king of flow

Jumped off the porch when i was like six

Most of y'all drop quick cause of impatience,

Furniture made of the flesh of my foes

And yeah we up in stadium, quarterbacking hoes

Cause america the terror of,

Where i'm from they is ruthless