This is a song about "Bob jones"

She still don't know i made sarah to strangle her

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

Who's next to release? we guillotine them

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

I fucked my whore than stabbed her in the heart, like im an indian from indiana jones,

Yeah, broken ass bones, and shattered hearts, faggots follow faggots like theyr fuckin clones,

Obviously detective with it, got em jones in like barnaby

And that's reallife that i was aimed to belove by my family tree

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

Go and ask fenty, hating ass nigga, sweeter than a simply

Now son is the only onegrows up in adoption homes

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

G5, clearport, say hello to the man

Yes siree 'bob', i was thinking the same thang

Swallow the cinnamon, i'mma scribble this sin and shit

That's making your head bob even if the music was muted,