This is a song about "Air"

Another 5, eli won't even be there

I'm out of here, gimme that breath of fresh air

Fuck a bottle rocket blowin smoke out in the air

Gotcha lips baby while i pull your hair

Years back you believed that the world was fair

I'm fresher than will smith walking through bel air.

Got our middle fingers in the air,

And got her room number, you can find me there

Spinning like my many rims through the air,

No medal here, i'm well aware

Some sort of sensual magic can crackle through the air

A bunch of backstabbing niggas, hope the knife ain’t there

Your a kid posing like willow in bel air,

When the depth chart came, there was no me there

Standing on the chair ready to kick and dangle in air.

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