This is a song about "Shooting peapole"

Small town guy, spend my time shooting hoops

For every black thought, i thought i caught roots

Gangsters robbin', shooting back, mama's sobbing pedals,

Hasheem thabeet and various other peoples

My paper long, yep, you left alone, you gets no fucks

Say aaah and open wide, im shooting projectiles

I was born to do the damn thing

Now of days people will be shooting,

But i don’t mean top 40 hits

A shooting range with bullet limits

I'll come swinging from a vine, shooting two pistols

Can we take shots? what's your flavor? flat drinks we call a cups

Why am i back to shooting up again?

I've seen dreams turn dust, cause he made them