This is a song about "Cod players"

So you drop a diss on a disk that you expect people to slip into their cd players

Deep into her soul, slow, now he's in controlpop's doing worse, a victim of his deadly curse

I'm murdering instrumentals cause i rap with the conscience

U play cod n' hold the controller sideways as ur banging the guns

And your loves in hindsight and you see everything its not

'cause weavin' facades is as easy as lobs of feed to the cod

As: my dad can’t satisfy her in the bedroom ever since he passed away

So now you can mourn for your fam while im back home playing cod ghosts all day,

And ain't it shameful, how niggas blame hoes for givin' birth

To maintain we must gain the trust of the game players,

But the ballers and the players, i ain’t living like that,

Rolling with the dopest hoes and they don't know i rap

Pork on the fork, white in the pot

They are probably palying cod