This is a song about "Pheonix"

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

And i ain't never did a bid and i don't have a little kid

The crowd's with me, all according to plan

'cause it was an admired service-man

If ya asked for my autograph i'd probably draw my dick in cursive

As they juggle knives for a deadly purpose, entertaining service, recursive