This is a song about "Demand"

Hustlin' in each and every ghetto with a mic in my hand

And stood up again, never been the one to bend to another's demand.

Demand he send me back just so i can shit on your face,

That he felt when he dealt with the physiological phase

I don't wear jewels, too much conflict

I demand to be acknowledged,

I'ma back em down like shaq with this black 2-2-3 in my hand

I just don't understand, even as we demand

That this shit i apply, proves that rap's demand is high/

You need to hit the door, search for a new guy

And if i give it to you, don't you treat me like them bitches

President like "i demand that, and i demand this!"

Then kick the door in to demand the misguided

Platinum and gold, you gots to love that

Follow your heart you’ll make that fast

Looking like the demand