This is a song about "Andrew jones"

Now son is the only onegrows up in adoption homes

See i live up in a shotgun home, niggas think they're prophet jones,

Bitch get hit with my ciroc-a vodka chopper

And be found, deep down, in davey jones locker.

I kill the beat like andrew jackson did the red men

The race war, when it's us against all of them

I kill the beat like andrew jackson did the red men

I ain't fucking mexican, but we can have sex again

To him, nothing is funnymind set on one thing, making his money

Obviously detective with it, got em jones in like barnaby

That they probably be in the closet of old folks

They pull you in and destroy you like manson or prophet jones,

And you don’t understand my slang my colloquial’s lovely

Its so crazy jones and az, its so lovely sippin on bubbly

She never ready to go so she forever come

He's a mixture of mathers, jones, and lamont coleman,