This is a song about "Shomit"

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

Lines naturally come out of my mind,and end up looking like bad cursive.

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

My homeboy brave he annoy brothers so he in grave like others

I'm the kind of kid whose main purpose is to shake earth's surface

The mask is on 'em like a catholic service