This is a song about "Jars of crafts"

Of the book of your life

I just shake dice

That's why i shine like i does

Of potential cases

No gimmick: real time, real heart

Your yard, full of pieces of lard

You claim you a dog, my nigga, i’m the vet

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

Cause america the terror of,

Mama always told me i’d be famous

Beaches of normandy.

Fuck fame, fuck money

Okay i’m lying, but i’m trying

Couple of shots and a glass of wine.

Of being of always getting wired

You're so white, my blinkers don't work