This is a song about "Frags"

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

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

I should use the unsigned verses call me in for my midnight urges

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

Now all i want is more my little pony toys to play wit

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