This is a song about "Club bottle service"

Defeated, beaten by these demons in a bottle

Jt: i'mma be the syrup, she can be my waffle

You know its black thought and your boy the bro ?uest, but

Dont see how you can hate from my side of the club

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

Listen, i'm fishing, you bitch niggas is missing i got that

So i ain't giving a fuck

She was the queen of the club

She mighty fine but i notice that her heart resides next to bitterness

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

Together all the timethought it was true love

Personally purchase the hearse, attend the service

Dial up words but they're not in service

She need now, she ain't never needed love

Feuding over their underground crown in a fight club

Well since you already bleedin' that mean i don't get to cut