This is a song about "Jars of crafts"

Furniture made of the flesh of my foes

Big money, i’m talking bad hoes

I’ll forever move any cat they admire mine

Couple of shots and a glass of wine.

Trust me these niggas rushed me for something my cousin probably did

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

Or now they don't praise enough

Raybands...hide the face of,

Top of my pile of bodies

Ima let her be by herself in peace

Of potential cases

And panned out, i'm all in love

Got the eye of tiger, spit of cobra, form of a dragon

Where my grimy figures at? look lively addressing the captain

Beaches of normandy.

Cause time is money