This is a song about "Air"

It's 14 racks, what i put on that purse

And the air force scrambles fighters

I'm steady well known from here to bel air

It’s not fair, the ones with the good hair

Your a kid posing like willow in bel air,

Cap heights, 1-2-4, landover, everywhere

I run a 4.4, so they won't catch me there

I can smell it in the air

I'm running out of air

U got all them drums in there

Multiple middle fingers in the air

Season opener, finna be there

Everyday we live and breathe the air

No medal here, i'm well aware

Some sort of sensual magic can crackle through the air

Nigga, i swear them lames ain’t know how to prepare