This is a song about "Air cushioned insoles"

When they open the box and inhale the pale air.

You ain't gotta stare, go cop a pair

I'm running out of air

Park my plane right there

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

You sitting at the bar wearing barbaro's hair

Og like the prince of bel air,

My coach ain't care, so i ain't care

Until all the air bubbles have popped.

From the time that you stole my heart

Spinning like my many rims through the air,

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

Ain't no skipper but all my bitches is ginger hair

Fuck a bottle rocket blowin smoke out in the air

Nigga, i swear them lames ain’t know how to prepare

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