Song parody of

Grooveline, Pt. 1

by 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 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 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 (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 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 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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Grooveline, Pt. 1

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