This is a song about "Jars of crafts"

Money ain't a thing

Feeling, of appealing

Cause america the terror of,

And now it's clear as this promise

While she blame mesecrets in tha dark

Your yard, full of pieces of lard

Half my peers, they're stretched for years

Out of this coviction of feelings

Furniture made of the flesh of my foes

Bitch i'm ballin' like i'm comin' off of free throws

Your body's saying things i ain't never heard

Of being of always getting wired

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

Defendants of a meddle, restless full of potential

My nigga, its all love

Of potential cases