This is a song about "Irina"

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

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

Penetratin' the game on its cervix is my service

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

As they juggle knives for a deadly purpose, entertaining service, recursive

Audiences respect the witty girlness and not that dissing curtness.