Grooveline Pt. 1

ScHoolboy Q

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    (Strolling in the park)
    Cause you never met or seen a nigga quite like me
    You need a gangsta baby, 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 cuz but he ain't fucking with cuz
    Yea I'm q, but you can call me quincy
    If you want or whatever baby, it's all love
    Fuck 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 salvatore, 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

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    (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
    Your 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'mma fuck 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
    Thirsty, 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
    Dom kennedy

    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

    Información de la canción

    Composición: Lex Luger, Currency, Dom Kennedy y Hanely Quincey

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