This is a song about "Jars of crafts"

He carried weight like a mack truckgonna bust on some playa haters

Illusion of days of elysium fields full of gladiators

Of being of always getting wired

Just woke up and screamed, fuck the world

I think found where your mind was

Raybands...hide the face of,

Golf wang kill them all nigga, triple six

King of the va, off of those toxins.

Of the book of your life

What we gotta do to survive

Ahead of his years, ahead of his time,

I try not to obey them at anytime

Threw the sack to his lil' niggas workin the set

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

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

Wreck these thangs, have em looking like halle berry's car