Diamond D, Scram Jones - I Ain't The One To Fuc Wit lyrics
[Diamond D, Scram Jones - I Ain't The One To Fuc Wit lyrics]
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
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
Iiiiii i ain’t the one to fuc wit (word)
Iiiiii i ain’t the one to fuc wit (word)
Iiiiii 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
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
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
Iiiiii i ain’t the one to fuc wit (word)
Iiiiii i ain’t the one to fuc wit (word)
Iiiiii 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