This is a song about "Jars of crafts"

Africa and europe, it's a small world we truly neighbors

Illusion of days of elysium fields full of gladiators

Your yard, full of pieces of lard

I mean that from the bottom of my heart

Tired of feeling wired of dealing

I was born to do the damn thing

Of which im not exactly proud of,

I can teach you all the sounds of love

Money’s on the mental, my efforts monumental

Defendants of a meddle, restless full of potential

Of being of always getting wired

I got them saying who dat, who dat? cole world

Top of my pile of bodies

That'll do anything that i please

King of the va, off of those toxins.

Bout some, but never put out the stout guns