This is a song about "Simran"

And then bitch-slap her on purpose,

Dial up words but they're not in service

Dun giving a shit, beating the crap outta males in a fighter pit.

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

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/