This is a song about "Air"

Until all the air bubbles have popped.

Banker banker, dealership, and the rim shop

Hey, you right there

I'm running out of air

Og like the prince of bel air,

They tryin to say that i don't care

It’s me and my nigga there until i’m a millionaire

Fuck a bottle rocket blowin smoke out in the air

You ain't gotta stare, go cop a pair

Creepin up on you fell me,cold air.

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

It's been a weekend, five starrin' in her underwear

To see how long your lungs can stay starved of air

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

When they open the box and inhale the pale air.

When the depth chart came, there was no me there