This is a song about "British john"

And erase my number out the phones of these fake hoes

Don't remember her name but she used to fuck john stamos

Surrounded by the irony of living in the city

You're the john mccain to his robert e. lee/

Now we gone gone, out our minds like john john

I'm too strong, eight arms sticking to a bomb

Now them broads gon' follow

(uh, uh) there you go that's john doe

Im john marston the pioneering jedi,

You a lady boss, now you fly free

Blazing gats at flaming fags like british dudes with cigarettes,

Probably seen meaner bars probably in the feds

Acid foam, talking trash like john mcenroe

Face down, ass up, ain't none of my bitches planking though

And when you know you a catch it’s hard to pass up these bitches

I need some listerine, see your sister she musta been british,