This is a song about "Supply"

And that they love to see us all go to prison or die

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

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

Dead at thirteen cause he yearned to bangsniffed a lot of flowers, but how could i cry

She knew he was her supply, thought it better than to lie

But now that we're free, let's be gone, you got me blazing high

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

And that's a better reason to for me to take advantage with sex

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

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

In case i don't get intell all my people i'm a ridahnobody cries when we die

I'm losing supply up on high that no lie and i'ma bout to apply for my old guy

So much dough i supply the bakery

Busta-ass motherfuckers tried to flee

Yo those dealers near your house don't supply no heat,

J big as a muffler, we puff that meineke weed