This is a song about "Kiiling"

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

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,

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

An obstacle ill hurdle it while i keep the purple lit

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