This is a song about "Air"

Your a kid posing like willow in bel air,

Cause a nigga main joint wanna do my hair

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

And your son was born with cancer and he live in urgent care

They tryin to say that i don't care

Multiple middle fingers in the air

Turn around and then you flip your hair

I'm out of here, gimme that breath of fresh air

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

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

But now it's more declare

I'm running out of air

It's justice for all but 90 percent unfair

Then why the fuck am i yellin at air

With that weed in the air

I'm just sellin' my thoughts there