[Intro]
Yo, just imagine, like whistling down a desert or some shit
Don't this make you wanna swing like monkeys outta trees?

[Verse 1]
I don't got no parameters
This amateur's famous
All you fame getters
Hate caterers
Our main names are date of births
On a later verse
Make a n***a play reverse (move backwards)
Marching with some soldiers here
We coming over there
The kind of n***as soldiers fear
You just gotta stare
You ain't got no option (no)
Please relax son
I'm taking over like drug dealer cars to auctions
Oh these are hungry men
These are angry men
Heard you got a lot of guts
They'll call your bluff
Your shit is laughable
Why you rapping oh
Why don't you just wrap sandwiches to earn a capital?
And half the shit that you spit
Ain't even that sick
If you was doing my physical you couldn't have my shit
Back to my verse flow
I don't get shit yo
My skills so bright when I spit my lips glow
[Hook]
The dusty foot philosopher
Ripping up kilometers
Winking at you officers da dum da dum da dum
The dusty foot philosopher
Sicking up the monitor
Waking up the auditors da dum da dum da dum

[Verse 2]
And I've seen war and some
Survived the slaughter son
Kids play cops and robbers and not with the water guns
So yeah yeah picture me
And big brother Lee
Walking through the fire
We came to claim our victory
And I roll with a harder pen
I might start a trend
Beat down a wack MC cause you know there's a lot of them
Wait till my shit crashes
Rip asses
Women who give me neck suffer from whiplashes
I frighten the masses
Cause I'm that nasty
I heard to get a deal you had to give lap dances
This shit is serious
Sincere it is
The people wanted something real
Well yo here it is
My rhymes push records back like a belly button dirty rutting
I got stiff neck steady nuttin' it ain't nothing
I got the track laid like I'm fucking
The only balls you got is made outta cotton
[Hook x2]

[Verse 3]
This is what you waited for
Glad you stayed the course
Cause a lot of rappers is getting treated like lady whores
And I don't like Babylon
I don't like your song
I don't like hearing that fake accent from Dylon
The industry commentator
Fuck it I'm a hater
My mind is like your life straight up cause it's made up
I'm strolling like babies with big ass ladies (yeah)
That rock more fellas than ten thousand daisies
Harder than harbouring Bin Laden inside the bottom compound with Donald Rumsfield and Bush blood
Moving along like people who don't want it
Even if I had jewels I'd be the type who don't run it
They call me dusty cause my feet have been through a lot
The wisdom of my survival that's just due to Allah
So I'm not gonna sit here and whine like crushed grapes
My mind leaves you speechless like duct tape

[Hook x2]