One of my last fleeting memories of 2011 was desperately holding on to any remnant of shade at Falls while The Jim Jones Revue rocked the fuck out in million-degree heat while wearing full three-piece suits. It made me want to cry. On It’s Gotta Be About Me, Jones spits like a madman over some Zeppelin-sized guitar riffs. Definitely lives up to the exceedingly cocksure title.