Yeern 101 Lyrics latest song by ScHoolboy Q. The lyrics were written by Quincy Matthew Hanley & Ronald LaTour and produced by Cardogotwings, J.LBS, YeX, and Johnny Juliano
Table of Contents
Yeern 101 Song Details
| Song | Yeern 101 |
| Artist/Singer | ScHoolboy Q |
| Lyrics | Quincy Matthew Hanley & Ronald LaTour |
| Produced | Cardogotwings, J.LBS, YeX, and Johnny Juliano |
| Label | Interscope Records |
Yeern 101 Music
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 guap 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’ in the field like church
Heard the hood got whacked, and the set went turn
Got a four-eight-eight in the glide like Curt
I’ve been livin’ off golf for the last few deals
When the Nike check came and I still got chills
Hit a 2K lick, I ain’t even go pro
Gotta boss LA, now I’m smellin’ like goat
Call me Ice Cube baby, when they sit on my chain
Heard a lame ass nigga tryna play with my name
On them twenty-three tour and I’m goin’ no brain
Goin’ dumb with these hundreds, now 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 your money in the set, a nigga die in them streets
Threw the boy alley hoopin’, now he ridin’ on fleek (Shoo)
Got a porch 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, but 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 a 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, from the way 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 “Word?”
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
Fo’-fifty-four, 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 where I got it back then
Number one stunna with the love of my—
Raised by the gang with a mill’ like Philly
With the watch, two-fifty and a bitch so— (Blue)
Uh
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, uh
Yeah, uh
(Shoo)
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 rat
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
But he all on my dick, and I find that strange
Keep playin’ with the fire, but his ass get burned
Bet your boy got split when the light got turned
Got his head all cracked, but the boy won’t learn
Big racked up shawty when the block gets served
Niggas always sorry when the cap don’t work
Got the butterfly doors and they fly like bird
Bet I love my bitch, but I ain’t them nerd
Like damn wop, how I get a bitch like yeern?
