This is a song about "Peausiful"

Penetratin' the game on its cervix is my service

You spend days in your room to look perfect on the surface,

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,