This is a song about "Air"

Don't you leave a seed in there

I'm running out of air

Cause you slum dawg and i'm the millionaire

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

When they open the box and inhale the pale air.

And now i walk around without a care

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

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

I mean me is there, but it's like three there

Creepin up on you fell me,cold air.

I can smell it in the air

And if they did, they didn't care

Got our middle fingers in the air,

Another 5, eli won't even be there

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

Booger bear, i'll have you up in hooker gear, i swear