This is a song about "Jars of crafts"

We can count the stars on the hood in your father's car

There ain't no genie jars to grant what your petty wishes are

Of which im not exactly proud of,

So my next joint don't got to be so rough

Defendants of a meddle, restless full of potential

If she mine i'mma take her to a newer level

Everybody coming home deserve a white benz

Thoughts of us of everything of everyone's debts

Oh, i was raised by the stop sign

Ahead of his years, ahead of his time,

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

Of being of always getting wired

See i'm breathing for a purpose

Raybands...hide the face of,

Someway, somehow nigga feeling

Tired of feeling wired of dealing