This is a song about "Apple s"

Wocky, she's a dancer, walkie-talkie ace for back up like fag

She got a nice swag, and the apple bottom like that apple like mac

Cursed you so many times the blessings hid in fear, your the modern eve with the apple

That you looking like an angel-sent from the heavens, god bless your every angle

You know they bangin' in the car harder than 808's,

My bitches ballin' to the maya moore's, yes

So back off and unpack your lunchbox grab the apple sauce

My self esteem was like me, tall and full of flaws

Where i from, it get cold

S queezys very bold

And if yo blood wasn't runnin through my veins i would prolly cut yall off ... too ! yep

That’s why the paparazzi made that nigga hit his fucking head that’s what that fool get

I'll punch you in the throat and leave you choking on your adam's apple.

Keep it real as penitentiary steelthis ain't no freestyle battle