Letra de Yeern 101 - ScHoolboy Q

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 his 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

Figg-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

(But it's-a me, Groovy-o)

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?

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