This is a song about "Sasague"

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

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

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

No not the heiress just one from an escort service

Loadin out with my rap service, let it out on the pad i make the whack versions

Im not worried, or discouraged, you see us and you know we spit mad verses.