U Ain't

Erick Sermon! On the beat You gots to chill [Scratches: DJ Ace the Cut Lieutenant] You can't see me on the mic You ain't fuckin' with me [Verse 1: A-F-R-O] Mexican mixed half black La Bamba Black Mamba, pass the chronic Super Stetsasonic, electronic, and ya head is bobbin’ Never be lead poppin’, I wada-da-day cause dem droppin’ Black as ever, stay feet underground Brother fat as ever, weigh three hundred pounds And why these people tellin’ me I need to eat my veggies? Blown trees with many, FRO speaks it heavy When most seek the envy, they pity on and pretend Really, they full of bile, brother, they actin’ like a phony friend I pen fry it when I commit to the beat, break through my X Ray A gentle giant, but I become like T2 when my pen spray The flow sound better and great Cause FRO rhyme makes Mount Everest shake So I’ma go and do my thing, no question No second guessin’, so extra fresh and FRO [Scratches: DJ Ace the Cut Lieutenant] You can't see me on the mic You ain't fuckin' with me [Hook: A-F-R-O] You ain't fuckin' with me I can smash any beat You ain't fuckin' with me You can rhyme, you can flow You ain't fuckin’ with me On the mic, at a show You ain't fuckin’ with me [Bridge] All the fellas say Ha ah, ha, ah Ay, ay All the women say Ha ah, ha, ah Ay, ay [Verse 2: A-F-R-O] Oochie wally Oops I’m on and naughty Recoup, I’m onto party, and whoo with a want-a-naty The truth, and I’m bout, bout it, the youth, but I got the knowledge The proof when I set it off in the booth, you know I got it Give it a little razzle dazzle on the microphone The thizzle to the fro, to spit a flow that feelin’ right at home Y’know, FRO to be a Pimp Named Slickback My pencil jot, plot, to make my shit aim kick back Let’s go My fingers get tired when breakin’ the tree My lyrics are mine, I say what I mean My face on the billboard, in place, Happy Gilmore To rage rapping still course, to grace plaques and big awards A young man can only dream, a dumb man can only bleed A pump jam to unfold, to blow 'em back to smithereens Rap toys that I display, clap noise and namaste Tabloids know that I’m a Bad Boy like Michael Bay [Scratches: DJ Ace the Cut Lieutenant] You can't see me on the mic You ain't fuckin' with me [Hook: A-F-R-O] You ain't fuckin' with me I can smash any beat You ain't fuckin' with me You can rhyme, you can flow You ain't fuckin’ with me On the mic, at a show You ain't fuckin’ with me [Bridge] All the fellas say Ha ah, ha, ah Ay, ay All the women say Ha ah, ha, ah Ay, ay [Verse 3: A-F-R-O] I may go speak for certain, I lay low deep in hearses When A-FRO spit, brother, this ain’t no Pee Wee Herman And must I deliver twice? Bust and disfigure mics Surely what’s the fuss, how he cuss, but the nigga nice The happy man that I be, son looking to smash bones Candyman when I speak blood written in black poems Put Black Thought, Sean P, and Spike Lee in a pot Together, you got FRO, the next best director emcee Gone Erick Sermon On the beat You gots to chill