This is a song about "Supply"

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

Getting high, see the demons in my eyes, before i die

You know me, cool breeze, a nigga high

I be the godly demi who wants moore supply

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

Supply an entire island of flies, or a botanical garden

With hugs and kisses, valentine cards and birthday wishes

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

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

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

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

My chances were shallow somehow i'm so deep

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

Tatted upt.y.g.a. basically gotta cremate me cause i'm fly 'til i die

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