This is a song about "Tuckshop"

At a funeral service lurking and snatching purses

Turn you niggas into urns, my furnaces re-furnish,

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

I like alliterative verses, i like cussing and inovative curses

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

An obstacle ill hurdle it while i keep the purple lit