This is a song about "Air maxes"

I'm running out of air

They tryin to say that i don't care

On the lines of a wire right in the nice air

A bunch of backstabbing niggas, hope the knife ain’t there

It's how we put it there

Og like the prince of bel air,

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

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

Let some in the air and say

And let the beat play

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

Some sort of sensual magic can crackle through the air

Come on over to the scene, grab a table, let me take a look at that there

Floating in the quietness, fortifying my alliances, lost in the air,

You, you, you have to pay for that

Cause you looking like maxes dad