This is a song about "Jars of crafts"

Thoughts of immortality

Summertime in the city

Furniture made of the flesh of my foes

Like the limbs on ya feet, i suppose

The way she walks and causes a fuss

Of potential cases

I got that cold flow, winnipeg, this is work

Of being of always getting wired

I just got one request, stop breathing

Tired of feeling wired of dealing

A little more of me through generation of a debate of hatred

Can i meet that, where you be at, everybody try to beat that

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

A nigga thorough, she knew it before i bought her car

Blast masses a cast to cover crafts.

I'm on the stage, you in the stands