This is a song about "Zharikov"

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

Im #psychophysical, the rap bastard brushin my teeth with the rustiest daggers

An obstacle ill hurdle it while i keep the purple lit

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

I'll confess i'm just rushin it, always feels like an emergency

Secret service insurgents observe me nervously