The Dusty Foot Philosopher Testo

Testo The Dusty Foot Philosopher

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Yo. Just imagine like whistling down a desert or some shit. Don't this make you wanna swing like monkeys outta trees?

I ain'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 nigger play reverse (move backwards)
Marching with some soldiers here
We coming over there
The kind of niggers 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 have the shit that you spit
And even have 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

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

And I've seen war and some
Survived the slaughter son
Kids play cops and robbers and not with the water guns
And yeah picture me
And big brotherly
Walking through the fire
We came to claim our victory
And I roll with a harder pen
I might start a trend
Beat down Iraq MC coz 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
Coz I'm that nasty
I heard to get a deal you had to give lap dancers
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 nothing it aint nothing
I got the track laid like I'm fucking
The only balls you got is made outta cotton

[chorus]

This is what you waited for
Glad you stayed the chorus
Coz 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 coz it's made up
I'm strolling like babies with big gas ladies
That rock more fellahs than ten thousand daisies
Harder than harbour and 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 coz my feet have been through a lot
The wisdom of my survival that's just due to a lot
So I'm not gonna sit here and whine like crushed grapes
My mind leaves you speechless like duct tape

[chorus]

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