This is a song about "Aerial"

My rap style is kinda like flying kites,

I'm standing on the field full of land mines

Mixed with open temptations

I never fit in with them light skins

Innumerable bone crosses and flying saucers

Thinking about who the fuck your nigga gone serve

Walking with an empty purse

If i sent my dad letters

Take advice keep it clean don't complain

Flying first class on my airplane

That wouldn't be pleasing to you don't open

The 7-pick up, yukon, the range is come

Makes me feel like im flying

And my only fear's a wedding ring

But my vision has inclined to some interscope, and its home

I'm wrecking lexiee's empty head while texting men on my cellphone