This is a song about "Jars of crafts"

You know me, cool breeze, a nigga high

Of that gangja from the shores of shanghai

No bullshit, every shy bitch can get a rose

Furniture made of the flesh of my foes

Of being of always getting wired

I'm not saying i'm going to change the world

Yo, bubble gum that reese's pieces

Of potential cases

Thoughts of immortality

It's no longer a new jack city

Now this is what i call an evening

Tired of feeling wired of dealing

I'm takin' notes, havana flow, i'm feelin' special

Defendants of a meddle, restless full of potential

Of the book of your life

Hop in and let me test drive