This is a song about "Caleb jones"

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

Without choice or hope to voice our own noiseless mope of far away homes

That bastard was buzzing like woody so we get it for free

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

Treble like the radio cause everything was fair play

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

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

The red album, lil red shortie, you can't touch her

Got a fuckin' blog that needs a post? i can get it done

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

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

Now son is the only onegrows up in adoption homes

That flies me to places, with spaceships, that don't need 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,