This is a song about "Keishla"

The mask is on 'em like a catholic service

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

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

Im moving on from ex , but i get jealous , am i a hypocrite?

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