This is a song about "Air mass"

But as time passes, mass minds crash and lack climb

They ain’t got no life ‘cause they always on mine

You appear as if you care

I'm running out of air

The type of shit that causes mass confusion

Fucking chin-checkin' punks 'til he's outta breath and done

Everyday we live and breathe the air

Believing the screens or anything there

The type of shit that causes mass confusion

I want to fight the music on this one

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

You’re the plastic, i’m the passion and the magic in the air

And i ain't frontin for her

Got mass like a catholic preacher

When the depth chart came, there was no me there

Then why the fuck am i yellin at air