This is a song about "Supply"

Working out 9 to 5 keeping them babies fly

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

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

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

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,

I be the godly demi who wants moore supply

I don't wanna come down from this love i got on high

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

Pick my enemies out the crowd, and motherfucker's die

The fiends supply the shady

Heavy weed smoker, get ounces for free

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

Like you never did right? sort of like a black sheep

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

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