This is a song about "Computer labs"

This is not somethin that i wrote for tha queens

But for me to rap like a computer must be in my genes

Labs creating a deadly disease the lucky number 3 freemason technicality

I wake up at the slightest peep, and my sheets are 3 feet deepi guess it's hard for you to see

Rated by a computer which the specifics i leave unexplained

But at least, my spit dont taste like yeast, more like minty tooth paste, what a waste,

That's why i traded r. kelly my sister for a new hit

He storms to his computer room and, types that you're a faggot.

I'm just tryin to get back, to what really matters

Face robbing bankers, and face computer hackers

Ya’ll be highly obliged when i drop my shit

Boom! your computer just exploded

Moron spitting bars behind his computer screen

Bars crazy of course i'm living the dream

As i stare at the ceiling fan, as a fan of these wicked streets

But for me to rap like a computer must be in my genes