This is a song about "Feens"

Dial up words but they're not in service

You spend days in your room to look perfect on the surface,

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

Autonomy cosmetology, follow me, you're mahogany, colony,

Each time you disperse your verses they are hurling curses

At a funeral service lurking and snatching purses