This is a song about "Air conditioning"

Multiple middle fingers in the air

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

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

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

Og like the prince of bel air,

And never should you tear

No, not on top but down there

Creepin up on you fell me,cold air.

Fuck a bottle rocket blowin smoke out in the air

A bunch of temptation facing when your wife ain’t there

Some sort of sensual magic can crackle through the air

Blowin' fuck it i don't care, dreads is flyin' everywhere

When the depth chart came, there was no me there

Everyday we live and breathe the air