This is a song about "Supply drop"

Pick my enemies out the crowd, and motherfucker's die

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

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,

Know shit's about to drop,

You chris, i rock

My album gonna drop

That's all i got

I'm why baby mommas leave

I drop philosophies,

Don't derail or drop your guard

Like a small garage in your backyard

I keep my friends close, enemies closer, fuck both, i dont trust no one

Supply an entire island of flies, or a botanical garden

I'm losing supply up on high that no lie and i'ma bout to apply for my old guy

Dead at thirteen cause he yearned to bangsniffed a lot of flowers, but how could i cry