This is a song about "Osu"

Snap her adam's apple, have a laugh, and toss her off a bridge

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

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,

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

Secret service insurgents observe me nervously