This is a song about "Raymone jones"

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

I'll touch slap her, dap her, plus clap her

To speak from the soul and just leave it with them

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

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

And get the cake, then i'll tell them that's the winners pay

Fuck wolf gang, fuck what? here let's take a trip

Jim jones '14, you would think we pick-pocket,

Obviously detective with it, got em jones in like barnaby

In the face of adversity, i prepared a verse to see

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

Now son is the only onegrows up in adoption homes

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

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