This is a song about "Weex"

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

Snap her adam's apple, have a laugh, and toss her off a bridge

Personally purchase the hearse, attend the service

They say with identity comes purpose

I'm hot like the backlash backdraft from sugar packets packed with anthrax

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