This is a song about "John criton"

Blewin' some reefer in my zone like a 2-3 defense

I tacked, now my eyes bare they aren't john smith blank stares,

Cause i'm crappin out better shit than you while sittin on the fuckin john

See i give my heart to an unforgiven genre where passion is frowned upon

Yo, not your everyday john locke, i'm on top,

But now i got a problem with that little white rock

In my room, redefinin' the meanin' of black holes

We got soul but no control, like john rambo rippin' throats

But what we did was found our niche and made a stitch

John stockon is as white as that dumb bitch

Like john lennon, i'm playing those mind games/

Trying to shake, the crates and fakes and snakes

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

Malia family, we the family