This is a song about "Woko"

Penetratin' the game on its cervix is my service

You spend days in your room to look perfect on the surface,

So i refuse to follow in the same steps as my old man.

'cause it was an admired service-man

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/