Check 2 1 2
ScHoolboy Q Lyrics


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Alright, c'mon, yeah, yo
Yo, Dave, drop that shit, my nigga

Check 2-1-2
Who rock the motherfuckin' microphone
Better than Q? Yeah, uh, check 2-1-2
Who rock the motherfuckin' microphone
Better than Q? Yeah, uh, check 2-1-2
Who rock the motherfuckin' microphone?

Uh, back to the boogie, boogie to the bang
Bang to the rhythm, rhythm to the slang
Slang to the booth, booth to the truth
Spittin' all these words for the
Wise and the youth
Youth to the majors, them to the lasers
Beams to the cream, crack rock to the fiends
Fiends to the jails, jails to the tails
All of your dreams that you
Thought it had failed
Called you by surprise
Now the Devil in your eyes
Devil in your pie, see a coochee
Hit the broad
Stupid that you feelin' to live
In the crack dealin'
Look at the ceilin', stuck in prison
The walls peelin'
Hatin' every day in your life
Knew wrong from right
Don't despite, now you payin' the price
A nigga at your home layin' the pipe
Your wife livin' a life
Son fell in school, punked in a fight
I keep it real with you, say
I give you a real scripture
Money over bitches cause bitches
They will hit you
Movin' at a good pace, never lose a race
Providin' for your family
Keepin' food on the plate
Your money flows, doin' good
Stay on your toes
Sell out your rolls, fuck it
Let the music control and take over
It ain't cool to be a street soldier
Just somethin' to think about, shit
Now I'm out

Uh, yeah, check 2-1-2
Who rock the motherfuckin' microphone
Better than Q? Yeah, uh, check 2-1-2
Who rock the motherfuckin' microphone
Better than Q? Yeah, uh, check 2-1-2
Who rock the motherfuckin' microphone
Better than Q? Yeah, uh, check 2-1-2
Who rock the motherfuckin' microphone?

Uh, ayo, word on the street
GED ain't got spitters
Like I ain't one of LA's known crack dealers
Known cap-peeler, might be the pipe shit
The beat beat a price, yo
I guess I'll be the light
Born to the flame, dived into 'cane
Distributed cats to heat
Distributed cats defeat
The corner like peripheral
Sneakin' like I tippy-toe
Everythin' I write up in my verses, yeah
They fit me though '80s with the '90s flow
Mixin' with the gangsta and the soul
I got it under control hip-hop is mine
I'm throwin' you niggas signs
I'm makin' you step your game up
Lyrically, see, I came up from nothin'
My back turned from frontin'
All about my fetti
Stayin' sharper than machete
Eatin' rappers like spaghetti
Who can fuck with me? That young Nip, 50
That Bill Crispy, the Benjamin
These niggas softer than a cinnamon roll
As I compose, my body arose up from the dead
Every since Nas dropped that one album
Put his flow over my corpse
I came up with a torch
Hit the studio and comin' with force, yep
Kaboom guess who stepped in the room?
Nigga been a nut since I shot in the womb
I blow like balloon




Thank you guys for some of your time
Top five, nigga, dead or alive, Q

Overall Meaning

The lyrics of ScHoolboy Q's "Check 2 1 2" is a self-praise to the rapper's exceptional performance and lyrical capacity as he flaunts his style and skill, asserting his dominance in the rap game. It's a motivational song that emphasizes the importance of perseverance, hard work, and dedication to achieving success. ScHoolboy highlights the struggles of ghetto life, the drug trade, and the consequences of making bad decisions that hamper progress. The verses point out his rap proficiency, how he has honed his skills to perfection, and his confidence in himself to compete with his peers.


The opening bars "Who rock the motherfuckin' microphone. Better than Q? Yeah, uh, check 2-1-2" displays ScHoolboy Q's mastery on the mic, setting him apart from his contemporaries. The subsequent lines delve into his life's journey, tracing his roots from the streets, hustling, and struggling to becoming successful in the rap industry. The imagery portrayed is vivid and thought-provoking, evoking a sense of empathy towards those living the street life. The last lines of the song "Top five, nigga, dead or alive" emphasizes his significant contribution to the rap game, his unrivaled skill, and the impact he has made in the industry.


Line by Line Meaning

Check 2-1-2
Let's get started, check if the mic is working


Who rock the motherfuckin' microphone Better than Q? Yeah, uh, check 2-1-2 Who rock the motherfuckin' microphone Better than Q? Yeah, uh, check 2-1-2 Who rock the motherfuckin' microphone?
Who can perform better than ScHoolboy Q on the mic?


Uh, back to the boogie, boogie to the bang Bang to the rhythm, rhythm to the slang Slang to the booth, booth to the truth Spittin' all these words for the Wise and the youth Youth to the majors, them to the lasers Beams to the cream, crack rock to the fiends Fiends to the jails, jails to the tails All of your dreams that you Thought it had failed
Let's get back to the old school of hip hop, flow to the beat and rhymes to the language. Delivering knowledge and inspiration to the young and the old. From underground to the mainstream music industry, reflecting the harsh reality of drugs and their effects on people's lives, ultimately leading to incarceration and shattered dreams that were once within reach.


Called you by surprise Now the Devil in your eyes Devil in your pie, see a coochee Hit the broad Stupid that you feelin' to live In the crack dealin' Look at the ceilin', stuck in prison The walls peelin' Hatin' every day in your life Knew wrong from right Don't despite, now you payin' the price A nigga at your home layin' the pipe Your wife livin' a life Son fell in school, punked in a fight
Succumbing to temptation and greed can have a detrimental effect on one's life, bringing chaos and misery to oneself and loved ones. Falling to the wrong side of the law and being incarcerated, brings added insult to injury, and a lifetime of regret to dwell on. Losing control over one's family, and living with the shame and consequences of past actions for the rest of one's life.


I keep it real with you, say I give you a real scripture Money over bitches cause bitches They will hit you Movin' at a good pace, never lose a race Providin' for your family Keepin' food on the plate
Always staying true and honest, telling the unvarnished reality of life. Putting financial stability as a top priority, and keeping oneself safe from toxic women, who can only bring harm and destruction. Living life with a steady pace, never slowing down or falling behind, always providing for one's family and feeding them.


Your money flows, doin' good Stay on your toes Sell out your rolls, fuck it Let the music control and take over It ain't cool to be a street soldier Just somethin' to think about, shit Now I'm out
Securing a steady cash flow, staying vigilant and watchful, sometimes selling one's possessions for the sake of the art. Letting the music take control and lead us to unchartered territory. Discouraging people from becoming street fighters and criminals for the sake of bravado. These are some ideas to mull over. Now, the song is finished.


Uh, ayo, word on the street GED ain't got spitters Like I ain't one of LA's known crack dealers Known cap-peeler, might be the pipe shit The beat beat a price, yo I guess I'll be the light Born to the flame, dived into 'cane Distributed cats to heat Distributed cats defeat The corner like peripheral Sneakin' like I tippy-toe Everythin' I write up in my verses, yeah They fit me though '80s with the '90s flow Mixin' with the gangsta and the soul I got it under control hip-hop is mine I'm throwin' you niggas signs I'm makin' you step your game up Lyrically, see, I came up from nothin' My back turned from frontin' All about my fetti Stayin' sharper than machete Eatin' rappers like spaghetti Who can fuck with me? That young Nip, 50 That Bill Crispy, the Benjamin These niggas softer than a cinnamon roll As I compose, my body arose up from the dead Every since Nas dropped that one album Put his flow over my corpse I came up with a torch Hit the studio and comin' with force, yep Kaboom guess who stepped in the room? Nigga been a nut since I shot in the womb I blow like balloon Thank you guys for some of your time Top five, nigga, dead or alive, Q
Rumors are rife that the General Educational Development (GED) doesn't produce excellent rap talent, but that's not true, as I am one of LA's most popular crack dealers. Q, known for his sharp shooting, and a formidable threat to have. The rhymes that I write fit the style of the 80s and 90s, mixed with the classic swagger of gangsta rap and soulful bebop. I own the rap game and am determined to show my strength. With my sharp wit and unmatched talent, I quickly rose to fame despite the difficulties of my past. My enemies can't touch me, from the young Nipsey to 50 Cent, none can compare. I am sticking with the big bills of 100 dollars: the Benjamins. Others are weak like a pastry, as I write my flow, my body becomes alive once again. Since Nas' critically acclaimed album was released, I took inspiration, took up the torch and hit the studio with vigor. Here I am, who just appeared? A nut who got his first shot in the womb, ready to take on the world. Thank you for spending your valuable time listening to my music, and, unequivocally, I am one of the top five dead or alive MCs, Q.




Lyrics © O/B/O APRA AMCOS

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Comments from YouTube:

Noe Saldana

Wow this shit bangs

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