This is a song about "Wind magic"

And has the magic beans

Malcolm x, by any means

Oppose/ enemies with long lost forbidden magic

The best journeyacres of land and swimming pools and all that

I’m superman with the wind at his back,

Shit, that birkin bag make the old dude mad

No it's not satanic, it's magic

It's all good, finna dog that

I can show you magic

He might have the same whip

Got some ill gold, diamonds thats still low

Toss it just let the wind blow

Chance of rapping on acid, but actually magic

With a staggerin' pack of cocaine in the sack of my dick

With a wind northwesterly whistling my destiny

Paralyzed to the feeling, all the hate i see