This is a song about "Medabots"

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

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

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

This shits nuts, inclined but the signs worsen/ trying to lift up your minds curtains

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