This is a song about "Air"

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

With that weed in the air

Got our middle fingers in the air,

Nowhere, let's let that sucker stay out there

Your a kid posing like willow in bel air,

Cause a nigga main joint wanna do my hair

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

Some sort of sensual magic can crackle through the air

And when i'm done with her, ain't no other male to compare

Even then we got people out there drowning, gasping for air.

I don't even breathe the same air

Another 5, eli won't even be there

When the depth chart came, there was no me there

When they open the box and inhale the pale air.

Fuck barack’s change, we’d rather talk milian’s hair

Spinning like my many rims through the air,