This is a song about "Mayson woodhouse"

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

And rhyme like carlcee. i tell about my service like its my own fuckin policy.

I had to make a difference on rap, not comedy. i have to admit honestly,

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

An obstacle ill hurdle it while i keep the purple lit