This is a song about "Air"

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

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

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

On the lines of a wire right in the nice air

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

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

Multiple middle fingers in the air

You sitting at the bar wearing barbaro's hair

Cause you slum dawg and i'm the millionaire

Creepin up on you fell me,cold air.

When they open the box and inhale the pale air.

When the depth chart came, there was no me there

Floating in the quietness, fortifying my alliances, lost in the air,

With a group of bitchs we're like fishes they got tendense to get wetter man you can drown in there

Turn around and then you flip your hair

Then why the fuck am i yellin at air