This is a song about "Supply and demand"

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,

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

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

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

Sorry i'm so demanding, sick of dancing back to mansion and

True to the gamei claim outlaw riderswe give a fuck what they try

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

I'm on i-80 though with my baby

The fiends supply the shady

See you gotta get high or die, cause even thugs cry

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

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

Fresh to death, when i step, you can hear momma's cry

And things seem to conflict

I demand to be acknowledged,