This is a song about "Air condition"

Spinning like my many rims through the air,

Gotcha lips baby while i pull your hair

Girl listen, trying to position

On his critical condition,

It's my fact y'all are fiction with diction

And then i saw the air condition

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

Some sort of sensual magic can crackle through the air

I'm in condition of confusion where's life's stopped in future,

It's not a figure of speech when i tell you that i dumped her

You killed the nigga, i stole a bible, is that a sin

You use anything at your disposal to mend your condition,

With that weed in the air

Park my plane right there

I'm running out of air

I'm love stoned and i could swear