[INTRO]
Yah! Feels like…. Everyone’s trying to shoot me…
Might be time to get some shooters… That’s wassup…

[HOOK]
Everybody wants to shoot me, guess I made too many enemies
Sittin’ in my Murphy chair, wide awake cause I can’t sleep
A hundred and one shooters, more than Future could hire
Put the chopper to your neck like parody satire

[VERSE 1]
I can't sleep, they got shooters coming after me
They want me dead cause my album was a masterpiece
Don't wanna end up likе Picasso and DiVinici (Dead!)
So I had to add a lot of shooters to the tеam
I keep my shooters like dalmatians, 101
Foreign whip, got Cruella riding shotgun
I'm too rich for water, only fuck with soda
First thing in the morning sippin' champagne like Hoda
The streets were my school, music was the books I read
I'm grown up now, I got a lot of shooters to feed
'99 Sonoma for my shooters, that's the vessel
I made a million off a song called The Warbler's Trestle
Don't come for the king, big mistake to try
My shooters well rested, sleep in a bunk bed to the sky
Each shooter's got a different color night gown
Man I don't even know 101 colors, how am I gonna hold this down?
(All this pressure… the drama...)