I Ain’t The One To Fuc Wit

[Verse 1: Scram Jones]
I get a kick, a hat, then a slap, a snare
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 (Panda Bear)
It’s all about Stunt, Blunts and Hip Hop
Stuff drugs in Ziploc
Some plug like Kid Rock
The Kid Rocker, the hit shock of hip hop
Made a pit stop at Gridlock, grabbed a record from the thrift shop (Gimme that!) 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)

[Chorus: Scratches]
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

[Verse 2: Diamond D]
Uh, we don’t quit
Ain't a place in this rap shit we don’t sit
I don’t fuck around with clowns, we don’t grit
Oysters, clams, steaks, Guido shit
Move in silence, incognito shit
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 (Aww!)
Niggas wanna burn me bad
But a bunch of mannequins don’t concern me, dad
Frontin’ only goin’ leave you on the gurney lad
Fucking with the wrong cat, Ernie Ladd (Yeah)
Thumb in your throat, gun in the tote
Either way smashing your dreams, dumbing your hope
Laughing all up in your face (OK), what’s happening
Laughing all the way to Chase (OK), Manhattan

[Chorus: Scratches]
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