This is a song about "Air"

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

Fuck a bottle rocket blowin smoke out in the air

But now it's more declare

Og like the prince of bel air,

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

A bunch of backstabbing niggas, hope the knife ain’t there

Ain't no skipper but all my bitches is ginger hair

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

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

Spinning like my many rims through the air,

Everyday we live and breathe the air

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

I'm running out of air

Day and night are my 'posites rare

Season opener, finna be there

I don't even breathe the same air