This is a song about "Supply chain"

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/

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

Think it's sweet, think he get money across the street

I dreamt of a gold watch and a gold chain

Here i go again, falling in love again

She can make a pimp fall in love

Champagne no chain no diamonds

You can bet your bottom dollar the bottom lips will need stitches

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

Stick up kids gettin' stuck up for the fake gold chain

Aimin' at them skin headed bitches let it rain

Cause it'll never be the same hereso i wipe away the tears

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

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

So you she would hide cause she thought of me as a typical guy