This is a song about "Jars of crafts"

Defendants of a meddle, restless full of potential

Odd future is children that's fucked up in they mental

She say she love me more than anything

Tired of feeling wired of dealing

Weekend trippin to wherever, only heaven is far

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

Illusion of days of elysium fields full of gladiators

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

But it's still cool just to dream man because

Of which im not exactly proud of,

For that living large, but mama i ain't done yet

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

Most of y'all drop quick cause of impatience,

The .45 for you niggas with nine lives

So let's have a toast, everything fine

Couple of shots and a glass of wine.