This is a song about "Mpokoto"

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/

I'll confess i'm just rushin it, always feels like an emergency

Secret service insurgents observe me nervously

Expressing myself on verses

Dial up words but they're not in service