This is a song about "Supply chain"

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

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

Ya self-esteem will be on my key chain,

Can't control the box, you are no mills lane

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

And if i give it to you, don't you treat me like them bitches

Thoughts, cause you're an outsider tryna get in brain

The elites keeping us locked under ball and chain

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

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

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

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

To chain the internal beast inside me

With your flashlight, tell me what do you see