This is a song about "Bdk"

I'm hot like the backlash backdraft from sugar packets packed with anthrax

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

Secret service insurgents observe me nervously

You in your after life fitting in hell perfectly

Now money is a service, but it's worthless, there's no purpose, shit,

Snap her adam's apple, have a laugh, and toss her off a bridge