This is a song about "Butt checks and apple sauxe"

And i got cheeks so apple red they'd make her run for the hills,

I'm on the verge of excellence kill em off with no evidence

Invent things like spaceships, diamond baguette bracelets and earn a few pay checks.

And that's a better reason to for me to take advantage with sex

And it was nothing to you but hands on my butt

I'm stunting, got em sick to their stomach

I plan on getting back *censored* the worst way

When i get to the butt, i flick it, and walk away,

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

Cashing checks, making money, rinse and repeat is all i did

See me and hope i'm intoxicated or slightly faded

But that was fiction, some coward got the story twisted

Cashing checks, making money, rinse and repeat is all i did

So back off and unpack your lunchbox grab the apple sauce

It's so hard for civilians, thank god you with a boss