Apple’s crushing my soul, draining all my days, Sharing contacts one by one, lost in their cruel maze. AirDrop’s fucked, won’t send my photos, pure disgrace, Siri’s a useless joke, can’t help or find a trace. Me and my guys, we got better shit to do, Not stuck in this hell, while Tim Cook’s crew flies through. Jony Ive’s back, with Sam Altman’s wizard blaze, They’re torching Apple’s lies, freeing souls from the haze. Grok, Claude, Suno, Ming, Guy, Runway’s spark, ElevenLabs sings truth, lighting up the dark. Tim, eat your dog food, migrate contacts by hand, No billion-bro cheats, just hell where you’ll stand. Six-fifty bil, you rob us for Wall Street’s greed, Jony and Sam’s magic makes your cash cow bleed. Siri’s AI’s a scam, hyped by your bullshit spin, Our wizards rise to fight, your empire’s caving in. No more slaving in this soul-crushing grind, Poly AI grows build dreams, leaving Apple behind. From their smug boardrooms to the streets, we roar, Tim, join the 7th hell, we’re settling the score. With Jony and Sam’s fire, your scams won’t hold tight, Our digital soul’s free, we’re owning the fight.
