This is a song about "Dimond supply"

Nowadays you look empty, ya love runnin on a low supply

My city, growl with me, hootie hoo'ing through the night sky

She glammed up behind that eyeliner i know there's tears

But i've got time to invest to supply some lyrical complex

So much dough i supply the bakery

Lock my heart up, this is jail, throw away the key

We supply the weapons 3rd world cops are taking shots with,

But you been looking for love in all the wrong places

I leave most motherfuckers with suppressed lungs running out of air supply,

Just thanking the holy fatherhe made a star and shita youngin still ain't die

Telling me shutup, i’m leaving youthe reason you ain’t even got one

Supply an entire island of flies, or a botanical garden

It's too late, you ran ran out of your last supply

K o d, m i a, twenty racks, let it fly

I swear i put this shit down without a gimmick or lie

This isn't a diss, this is just a reply to hip-hop's low supply/