This is a song about "Air"

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

And your son was born with cancer and he live in urgent care

I don't even breathe the same air

Please, just peep the crystal method where

Some sort of sensual magic can crackle through the air

Or try to fill the shoes of an invisible pair

They're tryin to say that i don't care

Spinning like my many rims through the air,

Fuck a bottle rocket blowin smoke out in the air

When danielle or milan decide to fucking share

Baby i ain't liping, i just tend to keep my city there

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

With that weed in the air

And if they did, they didn't care

Multiple middle fingers in the air

She tried to call home mom dukes ain't care