This is a song about "Supply chain"

Supply an entire island of flies, or a botanical garden

You must have won every pageant in america when you was young

So give it baby

The fiends supply the shady

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

And that's a better reason to for me to take advantage with sex

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

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

Champagne no chain no diamonds

I think found where your mind was

Po-po wanna pick his brain, ho's wanna give him brain

The life of a criminal, living on a chain

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,