This is a song about "Air"

When danielle or milan decide to fucking share

A deadly storm concoction is formed from cold hearts and hot air

Some sort of sensual magic can crackle through the air

Blowin' fuck it i don't care, dreads is flyin' everywhere

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

Og like the prince of bel air,

You sitting at the bar wearing barbaro's hair

To see how long your lungs can stay starved of air

Spinning like my many rims through the air,

They're tryin to say that i don't care

Park my plane right there

With that weed in the air

I'm running out of air

I'm just sellin' my thoughts there

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

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