This is a song about "Shooting stars"

Then the stars don't even matter

Of impactful things one can ask for

Like fudd snooping, shooting for ducks.

Shout out my nigga miles

Went out shooting, here's my retribution/

She smiles; a niggas full of passion

I keep my gaze glanced on stars

Sb nike's, with the grey box

Fat rhymes every time, bitch, roseanne bars

Like me, when i'm shooting for the stars/

Shooting missiles that where hooting whistles!

Ho, slut, no love, turn beef to cold cuts

A shooting range with bullet limits

Good rhythm, bad women and better lyrics