This is a song about "Swag and style"

Got a bunch of haters, plus i got more to count

Nobody can mimic my style and my sound

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

With what was once original style becoming more and more commonplace.

Bow our heads, say our grace, make it out the hood was amazing grace

So dont bite my style and lay on the madness of hate

High outer space no atlas got a lot of bait

With an old style and a sold can that outran

Paid well, like she supposed to, i'm a made man

There was a flood of emcees tryna hop on and bite the style,

Yo, i'm a hot and bothered astronaut crashing while

A bunch of fucking wolves and rats having niggers the size of shaq

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

I really like your style and how you write

Me and my dogs we on the same flight