This is a song about "Liliana"

Like a personal surgeon, searching for tumors emergin' in urchins

Loadin out with my rap service, let it out on the pad i make the whack versions

She never judges u for all the fucked up things that u done did,

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

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/