This is a song about "Sitting at my computer playing counter strike"

My rhymes strike like acid chemicals,

As she goes through the levels

Hey teens is me your leader miley i know yall starin at the computer,

I could give a fuck as long as there’s something that’s behind of her

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

On award tour, on excursions, i'm a virgin of swap meets

Sitting at home thinking "man where could my father be?"

And i don’t know why you fuck niggas can’t see

So while i hold this bottle of ciroc with a hand full of ass

You tell me 'one strike,' well, good thing i was never good at math.

I wanna die and watch my dark soul fade, leaving the kitchen blade, on the counter,

Jealousy inside, make'em wish i diedoh my lord, tell me what i'm livin' for

But i like you like..like a lil bit

My mind is moving quick like a computer chip

And my computer i'm a square shooter so most of these

She don't suck nothing, buzzen, but she lick it nice