ScHoolboy Q – Yeern 101 Lyrics
Like damn, Wop, how I get a bitch like yeern?
I’m a drop-top nigga ’cause the sun won’t burn
Wanna live like Wop, but the stripes ain’t earned
I’ma get it right now, I ain’t waitin’ no turn
Got a brand new house, tryna avoid my hurt
‘Bout six point somethin’ and it feel like church
Heard the hood got whack and the set went turn
Got a 488 and it glide like Kurt
I’ve been livin’ off golf from the last few deals
When the Nike check came, man, I still got chills
Hit a 2K lick, I ain’t even go pro
Got a boss outlet, now I’m smellin’ like goat
Call me Ice Cube baby, way they sit on my chain
Heard a lame-ass nigga tryna play with my name
When I’m twenty-three to it and I’m goin’ no brain
Goin’ dumb with these hundreds and my thumb got stained
I’m a nigga out here, everything come free
I ain’t never met God, but I bet he know me
Put the money in a set, a nigga die in them streets
Threw the boy alley oop, now he ridin’ on fleek (Suu)
Got a Porsche light skin and the ceilin’ got peeled
I was twenty plus young when this shit got real
Young black boy runnin’, got me out of that field
Made a livin’ off game, you should get it on film
I ain’t never your kind, late but I’m really on time
Girl, what you put in your mind? I ain’t diggin’ your sign
Truth or that pussy ain’t mine, hurt, but I made it out fine
Still in my prime, broke nigga, really out lyin’
Talk like he Tony Hawk grind, throwin’ twenty on nine
Nigga how you live with no spine? Broke nigga better off dyin’
Man, you niggas got nerve, broke ass, need to get a bird
Fuck it, I’ma get it off first, find a wave you ain’t surf
You bitch-niggas lookin’ all hurt, funny ’til your ego got nerfed
Boy done made it all worse, woke up lookin’ like work
One-fifty lay on my shirt, twenty lay on my teeth
Boy, I make a M in my sleep, everything I want in my reach
I’ma run it off tops, wonder where I’ve been? I’ve been pullin’ off lots
Four-fifty for it, I’ma keep it on stock
Cognac bezel with the ticker on rocks
Fig-side nigga, tell me what I ain’t got
Get it right now way I got it back then
Number one stunna about the level
Raised by the gang with a mill’ like Philly (Brr, ay)
With the watch, two-fifty and a bitch so— (Blue)
(Suu)
Uh
(Su, su, su)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, uh
Yeah, uh
(Suu)
When the door got closed, I ain’t feel too bad
I’ma run mine up, I’ma have some stashed
Now you in a broad purse, boy, you goin’ out sad
Now you wanna couch surf and you keep a little rash
Nigga livin’ out his backpack, need to get a bag
Got a gray double R and it need both lanes
Got a dollar to his name, but he all gang-gang
Boy, you all on my dick and I find that strange
Keep playin’ with the fire, bet his ass get burned
Heard your boy got spent when the light got turned
Got his head all cracked, man, the boy won’t learn
Big racked up shawty way the block gets served
Niggas always sorry when the cap don’t work
Got the butterfly doors and it fly like bird
Bet I love my bitch, but I ain’t them nerds
Like damn, Wop, how I get a bitch like yeern?
