This is a song about "Air"

Fuck barack’s change, we’d rather talk milian’s hair

When they open the box and inhale the pale air.

And got her room number, you can find me there

Multiple middle fingers in the air

And the air force scrambles fighters

Penncounting pennys over tha years

A bunch of temptation facing when your wife ain’t there

She showed no lover's care, mauled like she was just cuttin' air.

Until all the air bubbles have popped.

This for my niggas that really rap hard

Rap and do the impossible like i can carry air.

Or try to fill the shoes of an invisible pair

Ain't no skipper but all my bitches is ginger hair

Your a kid posing like willow in bel air,

And them which is more of a circus than a fair

To see how long your lungs can stay starved of air