This is a song about "Poopstains"

Dial up words but they're not in service

I'm not even fucking joking i don't play around in verses

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/

And rhyme like carlcee. i tell about my service like its my own fuckin policy.

My flow makes the economy, rise higher than our nations bureaucracy,