This is a song about "Jamaican gyall"

A vital hazard to my rivals, they're primal planners survival's the only sign that matters

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

Sometimes my lyrics are hard to choose i'm like a women to shoes and purses,

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

I'm not even fucking joking i don't play around in verses

The mask is on 'em like a catholic service