This is a song about "Supply and demand"

But every other part of you make me wanna depart and

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

That this shit i apply, proves that rap's demand is high/

Don’t know which one i’ma drive, fuck it, i’m just gone fly

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

Shit, caught up in your perfect world, you never heard me cry

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

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

So dunn stay silent

Grab the scissors and saws and

Die motherfuckin die, hope yo' ass fry, don't ask why

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

Then kick the door in to demand the misguided

And if you got it you gettin wet, nigga bet on that

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,