Grooveline, Pt. 1

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 »

Year:

2012

5:00

143 Views

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(Strolling in the park)
'Cause you never met or seen a nigga quite like me
You need a gangsta baby ay
Just tryna give it to ya
(Walking in the dark)
A groovy nigga that's way too G
(Tryna tell you baby!)

He might say 'cause but he ain't fucking with 'cause
Yea I'm Q
But you can call me Quincy if you want or whatever baby, it's all love
F*ck all that rapping, let me talk to you
Book you a ticket so we can kick it
Make an escape somewhere we'll be safe
Close your purse, I got my Visa on me
Pick out whatever, it ain't shit but money
Turn you to my honey
Take off my (saboteur?), Wipe your nose for ya
Climb a mountain in the snow for ya
You see these dummies always cut you lose, but so much that a G can do
Hit the weed, have a drink or two
I pay attention, I can listen too, you say he fucking who?
Fresh out the shower, let me smell your hair
Garnier Fructis got my knees weak, let's cuddle in these sheets
Let me hold you for a moment, it feels right, don't it?
From a lost child to a woman
Eye contact and soft kisses
Strong grip, she want a gangsta, on Crip

(Strolling in the party)
'Cause you never met or seen a nigga quite like me
Just tryna give it to ya
(Walking in the dark)
A groovy nigga that's way too G
(Tryna tell you baby!)

A 5'3" stallion
Daddy was from Harlem, Her momma was Italian
I don't see the challenge of having two girls
You just gotta keep the balance
I told her light that candle, I heard you do yoga, I'm tryna see examples
Yo ass is like a handle, see us on the front page, that'll be a scandal
Take off this red shirt, then my flannel
I need some head first, then I'm a f*ck you in them sandals
Hit the coochie like a dime sack, ain't those Gucci, didn't I buy that?
Close your eyes, go and try that
You only live once and I know I got you soaking wet
Is the liquor store open yet 
I need some Moet to pour it on yo ass like a paint
Back shots leave the pussy shaking, this my open invitation
In the morning
Make my toast with fresh orange juice and turkey bacon, bitch

Underground Royal
Flow over they heads air duct
Upper crust, toast bread
Talk of the town, thinking you know everything 'bout
A nigga 'cause them bitches talk loud in them beauty shop
Gossip before your man came get ya
Youtube clips can't show it all
Come and get down if you really wan' get up, baby doll
Ain't nobody 'round to judge, go on
Get if off your chest, vent, come up out that dress, bitch
She ain't take offense
Proceeded to take hits of the pregame twist, smoke out, smash
Grub a little bit, pass out, post-game events
Too high to find the remote, fell asleep to a infomercial
Woke up in her mouth, reruns of Full House, followed by some Urkel
Og my strain, rarely do I blaze purple
Some of them growers be in a rush, fucking the game up
You gon' learn about all that stuff long as you hang around us
Go on roll up

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