This is a song about "Air"

Some sort of sensual magic can crackle through the air

Baby i ain't liping, i just tend to keep my city there

You’re the plastic, i’m the passion and the magic in the air

I split the blunt and rolled the fat one up deadly -- babylon beware

I'm running out of air

U got all them drums in there

The birds i knew flip birds

And the air force scrambles fighters

Cause you slum dawg and i'm the millionaire

On the lines of a wire right in the nice air

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

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

My coach ain't care, so i ain't care

I'm steady well known from here to bel air

I said hey, you right there

With that weed in the air