| Look I don’t dab, yeah I rap but bitch I tote my own strap
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| Pussy nigga wanted a feature, I never sent his song back
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| You ain’t a rapper, you a trapper, well OK go on trap
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| Cuz we listened to your mixtape and every song wack
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| You can call it paranoia, I think every phone tapped
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| And these broads ain’t never loyal, I think every hoe’ll rat
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| Or get off in her feelings and fuck another nigga with a sack
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| Or a broke nigga that need her to keep her self esteem intact
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| I got nobody to call if I ever need a stack
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| That’s what got me out there selling weed, 17 and strapped
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| I was still going to class, studio spending my last
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| (Grind hard) Fast forward I’m just recycling the paper
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| I had this bitch out Magic City, don’t know why she like when I tape her
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| I think she tried to hack my iCloud and Kim K & Ray J me
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| I know some good girls I should’ve married but I’m too fucking crazy
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| Still trying to fuck up your nearest dice game like «Who got me faded?»
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| It’s Lito
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| 100 I shoot (4x)
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| (That's my last name. I’m talking bout 100 shots too, pussy ass nigga.)
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| I got a pocket full of hundreds, finna give it to my mama
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| Told my accountant, look I promise I’m finna get this other comma
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| Look lil nigga don’t make giggle, cuz you really don’t want no problems
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| You’ll get hit up make my hitta go commit another homi
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| Hoe the feds got my lil homie, I saw 'em sitting in the lobby
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| At my hotel before a show, but he wasn’t with me and they ain’t bother me
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| I had a pistol, 15 stacks, and a eighth of drank in my front pocket
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| He got scooped up the next day, man I’m still thankful God got me
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| Press rewind I almost died in Oakcrest, me, Elroy, and Notty
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| I’m just glad my nigga lived, must I repeat yeah God got me
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| Probably somewhere with a connect like a fucking hotspot
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| Either that or getting neck from a bopping thot pocket
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| Pull off from prison in a Porsche, my partner hopped out chopping up the profit
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| Since he been gone I been grinding hard everyday, ain’t finna stop it
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| Every day it’s steak and lobster, my filet served
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| 200 I straight? |
| Make it 200 I 6−8, aye drop it
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| 100 I shoot (4x)
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| And I’m still working for Nashville rappers. |
| JAY-Z know me. |
| He just done made
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| more money than me. |
| Jay-Z. |
| Shoutout, Jazzy Coach. |
| You remember, 1988,
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| how we used to live. |
| Your life just done got a little better than mine.
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| I work for Nashville rappers, man. |
| Jay-Z, you need to bring me that money;
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| so I can help Nashville rep. |
| Jay-Z. |
| Bring me some money man. |
| You know how we
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| did in '88. |
| Let’s do it in 2017-'18, Jay-Z!
|
| «I got too many vices/ I love to smoke weed, love to shoot dices» |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song 100, I Shute , by - Starlito. Song from the album Hot Chicken, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп