This is a song about "Blaziken"

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

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

Sometimes my lyrics are hard to choose i'm like a women to shoes and purses,

As they juggle knives for a deadly purpose, entertaining service, recursive

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,