This is a song about "Aimane"

Loadin out with my rap service, let it out on the pad i make the whack versions

With the wheels fallin off i shoot thru the windows make him crash into his mommas curtains

Service the discursive lurkers in the furthest mergers of a scary circus,

A vital hazard to my rivals, they're primal planners survival's the only sign that matters

Dial up words but they're not in service

I'll imprison your loved ones in burning furnace