This is a song about "Annie zeng"

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

Simply unable to afford four little pills that cost only a few dollars

The mask is on 'em like a catholic service

That's why i try to write the best ill verses with real purpose,

Bow your heads-i see the lines of my beaten artist hearses.

At a funeral service lurking and snatching purses