This is a song about "Rae"

Each time you disperse your verses they are hurling curses

At a funeral service lurking and snatching purses

Penetratin' the game on its cervix is my service

Except for the lower class, now what's their purpose?

But now its whatever, knowing your the batter of another man that matters,

Service the discursive lurkers in the furthest mergers of a scary circus,