This is a song about "Buttie"

Bastard, hap hazardous track master, put a beat on and words become lavishly crass daggers/

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

And rhyme like carlcee. i tell about my service like its my own fuckin policy.

Like we were playing a game of monopoly, living in shitty quality,

At a funeral service lurking and snatching purses

Turn you niggas into urns, my furnaces re-furnish,