This is a song about "Donya"

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

Dun giving a shit, beating the crap outta males in a fighter pit.

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,

The mask is on 'em like a catholic service

Im steady surgin' with verses, deadly but on the surface im nervous