This is a song about "Fresh prince of bel air"

We was loonie i suppose, you could

And me? i'm fresh prince, i'm will smith to the hood.

I run a 4.4, so they won't catch me there

To see how long your lungs can stay starved of air

So you she would hide cause she thought of me as a typical guy

I leave most motherfuckers with suppressed lungs running out of air supply,

Stay gold, alchemy, nigga we rap's alpha team

Fresh to death, swallow bleach, wine glass of mr. clean

They were niggas quite similar to pitching the lines

A bunch of fries coming fresh off the luncheon dines

That's aids to the ill

Im the fresh prince like will

Some sort of sensual magic can crackle through the air

Fuck barack’s change, we’d rather talk milian’s hair