This is a song about "Air"

I don't even breathe the same air

Don't you leave a seed in there

And them which is more of a circus than a fair

Got our middle fingers in the air,

Og like the prince of bel air,

It’s not fair, the ones with the good hair

Spinning like my many rims through the air,

Another 5, eli won't even be there

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

A deadly storm concoction is formed from cold hearts and hot air

Booger bear, i'll have you up in hooker gear, i swear

To see how long your lungs can stay starved of air

She showed no lover's care, mauled like she was just cuttin' air.

To get it in, any minute, i'll be hit with a stare

I'm steady well known from here to bel air

Cause a nigga main joint wanna do my hair