This is a song about "Heatt"

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,

Except for the lower class, now what's their purpose?

Penetratin' the game on its cervix is my service

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,