This is a song about "Umar"

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/

Dial up words but they're not in service

As a kid thats 3, cursin i ll kill u with just 3 verses

I'm a very lucky man, to have had her love like i did.

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