This is a song about "Air raid siren"

They tryin to say that i don't care

I'm running out of air

Og like the prince of bel air,

Cap heights, 1-2-4, landover, everywhere

I don't gotta drive around and worry about some siren sounds,

I step through the stomach, replace the baby with some fucking pounds

Some sort of sensual magic can crackle through the air

Gas 'em like a rental, when i take off, tell the bitch take care

I don't gotta drive around and worry about some siren sounds,

To read for seven pounds, you must release several pounds

And the air force scrambles fighters

The richest place on earth

Fuck a pest, we ain't in raid drought

There must be another route, way out