This is a song about "Fantasma"

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

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

Like a personal surgeon, searching for tumors emergin' in urchins

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

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

Im #psychophysical, the rap bastard brushin my teeth with the rustiest daggers