I Aint The One To Fuc Wit - Diamond D, Scram Jones

I get a kick, a hat

Then a slap, a snare

I keep a chick on my lap like it’s santa’s chair

Give you daps

Hit the lats

Drop the chandelier

Spit a New York rap

But breathe Cali air

Rub my rabbit foot

Prayed on rabbit ears

Smokin carrot cake kush

Cuttin out of cannabis

Jumpin in the ring

Before the ding you hear

The champ is here

Then I give you two black eyes

Pay the man

It’s all about stunt blocks and hip hop

Stuff drugs in ziploc

Some plug like Kid Rock

The kid rocker

Hit shock of hip hop

Made a pit stop at gridlock

Grabbed a record from the thrift shop

Gimme dat

Diggin in the crates DITC

With two turntables before my MPC

Now I flip the script

Yeah this DJ spit

And I write my own rhymes

Produce my own shit

I… I.I.I.I…I.

I ain’t the one to fuc wit (word)

I… I.I.I.I…I.

I ain’t the one to fuc wit (word)

I… I.I.I.I…I.

I ain’t the one to fuc wit (word)

Write my own rhymes

Produce my own shit

Yeah boy

I ain’t the one to fuc wit (echo)

We don’t quit

Ain’t no place in this rap

We don’t sit

I don’t fuc around with clowns

We don’t grit

Oysters, clams, steaks

We eat those s…

Move in silence

Incognito s…

Lil' man I don’t dance on front street

I left a clown missing front teeth

Who want beef?

Blow smoke in your face

From the blunt leaf

Awwh

Wanna burn me bad

But a bunch of mannequins

Don’t concern me dad

Frontin' only goin' leave you on the gurney lad

Deal with the wrong cat

Earnie Lad

Thumb in your throat

Gun in the tote

Either way smashing your dreams

Dulling your hope

Laughing all up in your face (k)

What’s happening

Laughing all the way to Chase

Manhattan