This is a song about "Air condition"

About your condition,

I'm wale, the prescription

I'm in a condition of intuitions were life's made up of illusions,

That we’ve been confined to, so the corporate won’t make decisions

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

I can do that to a nigga and make a pool on her

Multiple middle fingers in the air

Those flashing lights seem to cause a glare

See me as blasphemous for i don't need them

Being blind isn't a condition, it's a decision,

Meka scary, turn his white ass to a jim carrey twin

In this condition, im loading up with ammunition

Cause a nigga main joint wanna do my hair

I'm out of here, gimme that breath of fresh air