This is a song about "Air"

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

If you was, i would climb every other stair, i gotta stare

Cause a nigga main joint wanna do my hair

Fuck a bottle rocket blowin smoke out in the air

Everyday we live and breathe the air

I mean me is there, but it's like three there

Multiple middle fingers in the air

When the depth chart came, there was no me there

And them which is more of a circus than a fair

Rap and do the impossible like i can carry air.

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

I don't even breathe the same air

Yessir... momma looking puerto rican and she got the best hair

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

My coach ain't care, so i ain't care

Then why the fuck am i yellin at air