This is a song about "Air"

It’s me and my nigga there until i’m a millionaire

When they open the box and inhale the pale air.

Gas 'em like a rental, when i take off, tell the bitch take care

Even then we got people out there drowning, gasping for air.

If you thought it, it better be what you want

Until all the air bubbles have popped.

Insecure as bitches blind dating with a pimple there

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

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

Then why the fuck am i yellin at air

Your a kid posing like willow in bel air,

I run a 4.4, so they won't catch me there

I'm running out of air

Woah there, woah there

Fuck a bottle rocket blowin smoke out in the air

We missed you on the charts last week, damn, that's right you wasn't there