This is a song about "Bob jones"

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

Now son is the only onegrows up in adoption homes

Now yall listening to me flow while your heads rest easy and bob,

Hahaha, yothese felonies be like prophecies beggin me to stop

Yeah, he blowing up your cell phone

Growin out my dreads, i'm bob marley mon

And the discography, somethin' you got to see

I feelin like the ?bob?, when he was on da fone wit jimmy.

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

I just bask in the moment, give my passion to no one

And then along came the wrong man for her

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

I’m at the altar sayin’ my vows, to this benjamin franklin pile

But the moment she started to bob it fast deep, i could last for awhile

Young nigga from the bottom and i never had a way

Y'all turn them #crazy #prophets, jim jones, y'all dying today