Service the discursive lurkers in the furthest mergers of a scary circus,
Bastard, hap hazardous track master, put a beat on and words become lavishly crass daggers/
You spend days in your room to look perfect on the surface,
Dial up words but they're not in service
Im steady surgin' with verses, deadly but on the surface im nervous
No not the heiress just one from an escort service
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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