This is a song about "Jars of crafts"

Took me a while just to write those

Furniture made of the flesh of my foes

It's ironic cause i always hear you talking about one

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

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

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

Out of mind out of sight

Working day or night

Defendants of a meddle, restless full of potential

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

Tree pine, now, do the tree pine

Couple of shots and a glass of wine.

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

Lifes not all fair, work till we fall dead

Of the book of your life

... club, we'll be actin' real nice