This is a song about "Jars of crafts"

Thoughts of us of everything of everyone's debts

Odd future leaving even niggas in past tense

Blast masses a cast to cover crafts.

Rub titties in his face and laugh

Return of the king of flow

Your girlfriend want to follow

Fuck fame, fuck money

Beaches of normandy.

Out of mind out of sight

Jungle fever for the night

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

Who endorse them, should pull the plug and stick a fork in them

They say nothings ever free

Thoughts of immortality

It sorta becomes a cycle like hoes bleeding

Tired of feeling wired of dealing