Time Killers

ScHoolboy QScHoolboy Q 

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ScHoolboy Q

Quincy Matthew Hanley (born October 26, 1986), better known by his stage name Schoolboy Q (often stylized ScHoolboy Q), is an American hip hop recording artist signed to Top Dawg Entertainment and Interscope Records. Hanley is a member of hip hop supergroup Black Hippy, along with fellow West Coast rappers and label mates Ab-Soul, Jay Rock and Kendrick Lamar. more »

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Yeah (yeah)
Yeah (whoa)
Yeah
Huh
Yeah
(All that cappin' ass shit)
(Don't wanna hear none of that shit) yeah
We don't wanna hear that shit no more
On God (yeah)
Uh (yeah), yeah

Wake up, I'm on the night shift, don't do me wrong
Pull up, I need my sidekick, come get me on
On, on, turn me on
Slow down, follow the process, I'm in the zone
One umbrella, two pairs come, you play your roles
Euros, really I'm out here, I'm in the pros
Black man made it the hard way, he think he Hov
So mad looking at my shit, it could be yours
911 f*ck up black folk, I got the Porsche
Two-time felon, behind the gates, it's a resort
Gotta watch for these devils that steal your shit and get control (yeah)
Careful on that road, dumb lil' nigga getting low on what he owe
While I'm doing what he don't, until then free the locs
Another rapper turn joke (joke)
Another so-so (uh, damn, homie)
Nigga, please let it go, uh (let it go)
God bless the dead, move from the past, hmm (ay, yeah)
Nine million, all cash, hmm (ay, huh)
It's like my overtime flash (ballin')
F*ck 'til she satisfied, yes
Break it off the side
Hate y'all-, no secret, I'm on the road
They played y'all-, not with us, do what you told
Money do cartwheels, backflipped in gold
I don't take advice from niggas with no hoes
Nigga, you talk so much, you's the ho
I live rent-free, boy, y'all controlled
I need four commas (money, f*ck zeroes)
Oh, oh-oh-oh-oh (suu)
Wake up, hop out the phone booth, I'm on the way
Grew up on Figueroa Street, I saw the play
Lil' ol' scrawny nigga, for sure was catching fades
Raised by all women and still I never caved
Took it three times, extended from greatness, I display
Home of the brave, ran by the slaves
Stole everybody name so white Jesus on the chain
I feel proud when it hangs
Try to hide from the fame and still came with a bang
I'm a Figg nigga, turned a black cloud to a flame
I'm a big willy, stomach full, mouth full of paint
It was God-given, lil' nigga took it too far
I'm a lone star, street-smart and I'm book-smart
That's the dope part
Uh, yeah, look at my report card
Boy, was supposed to hit the four yard
A man supposed to have scars (ayy)
Nigga, it ain't that hard
When I'm groovin' in the NASCAR to Hoover Street, I'm Mozart
Boy livin' on a postcard
Smooth steerin' for the hard R, f*ck y'all (my nigga)

Yeah
They thought I was crazy (doot-doot)
they said I was cra- (yeah, doot-doot)
They thought I was crazy (yeah, doot-doot)

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