This is a song about "Air"

Your a kid posing like willow in bel air,

And them which is more of a circus than a fair

And the air force scrambles fighters

It's 14 racks, what i put on that purse

Then why the fuck am i yellin at air

You got a baby boy or girl in there

It's how we put it there

I'm running out of air

Spinning like my many rims through the air,

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

Everyday we live and breathe the air

Right, now you say you don't care

Blowin' fuck it i don't care, dreads is flyin' everywhere

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

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

I'm fresher than will smith walking through bel air.