The Dusty Foot Philosopher Lyrics
| Song | The Dusty Foot Philosopher |
| Artist | K'Naan |
| Album | The Dusty Foot Philosopher |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Goldstein, K'Naan, Warsame | |
| Yo. Just imagine like whistling down a desert or some shit. | |
| Don't this make you wanna swing like monkeys outta trees? | |
| I don't got no parameters | |
| This amateur is famous | |
| All you fame getters | |
| Hate caterers | |
| I name names and date of births | |
| On a later verse | |
| Make a nigga play reverse (move backwards) | |
| Marching with some soldiers here | |
| We coming over there | |
| The kind of niggas 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 rap at all? | |
| Why don't you just wrap sandwiches to earn a capital? | |
| When half the shit that you spit | |
| Ain't even half sick | |
| If you was doing my physical you couldn't have my shit | |
| Back to my first flow | |
| I own this shit yo | |
| My skills so bright when I spit my lips glow | |
| [Chorus] | |
| 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 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 whack MC, coz you know there's a lot of them | |
| Wait 'til 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 aint nothing | |
| I got the track laid like I'm fucking | |
| The only balls you got is made out of cotton. | |
| [Chorus] | |
| This is what you waited for | |
| Glad you stayed the course | |
| 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 cause it's made up | |
| I'm strolling like babies with big gats, ladies | |
| That rock more fellahs than ten thousand daisies | |
| Harder than harboring 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 a lie | |
| So I'm not gonna sit here and whine like crushed grapes | |
| My mind leaves you speechless like duct tape. | |
| [Chorus] | |
| Wait a minute, wait a minute (laughter) | |
| The dusty foot philosopher, | |
| Ripping up kilometers, | |
| Faster than you officer, da da da da da da | |
| The dusty foot philosopher, | |
| Sicking off the monitor, | |
| Waking up the auditors, da da da da da da | |
| Why are his feet so dusty? |
| zuo qu : Goldstein, K' Naan, Warsame | |
| Yo. Just imagine like whistling down a desert or some shit. | |
| Don' t this make you wanna swing like monkeys outta trees? | |
| I don' t got no parameters | |
| This amateur is famous | |
| All you fame getters | |
| Hate caterers | |
| I name names and date of births | |
| On a later verse | |
| Make a nigga play reverse move backwards | |
| Marching with some soldiers here | |
| We coming over there | |
| The kind of niggas 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 rap at all? | |
| Why don' t you just wrap sandwiches to earn a capital? | |
| When half the shit that you spit | |
| Ain' t even half sick | |
| If you was doing my physical you couldn' t have my shit | |
| Back to my first flow | |
| I own this shit yo | |
| My skills so bright when I spit my lips glow | |
| Chorus | |
| 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 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 whack MC, coz you know there' s a lot of them | |
| Wait ' til 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 aint nothing | |
| I got the track laid like I' m fucking | |
| The only balls you got is made out of cotton. | |
| Chorus | |
| This is what you waited for | |
| Glad you stayed the course | |
| 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 cause it' s made up | |
| I' m strolling like babies with big gats, ladies | |
| That rock more fellahs than ten thousand daisies | |
| Harder than harboring 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 a lie | |
| So I' m not gonna sit here and whine like crushed grapes | |
| My mind leaves you speechless like duct tape. | |
| Chorus | |
| Wait a minute, wait a minute laughter | |
| The dusty foot philosopher, | |
| Ripping up kilometers, | |
| Faster than you officer, da da da da da da | |
| The dusty foot philosopher, | |
| Sicking off the monitor, | |
| Waking up the auditors, da da da da da da | |
| Why are his feet so dusty? |
| zuò qǔ : Goldstein, K' Naan, Warsame | |
| Yo. Just imagine like whistling down a desert or some shit. | |
| Don' t this make you wanna swing like monkeys outta trees? | |
| I don' t got no parameters | |
| This amateur is famous | |
| All you fame getters | |
| Hate caterers | |
| I name names and date of births | |
| On a later verse | |
| Make a nigga play reverse move backwards | |
| Marching with some soldiers here | |
| We coming over there | |
| The kind of niggas 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 rap at all? | |
| Why don' t you just wrap sandwiches to earn a capital? | |
| When half the shit that you spit | |
| Ain' t even half sick | |
| If you was doing my physical you couldn' t have my shit | |
| Back to my first flow | |
| I own this shit yo | |
| My skills so bright when I spit my lips glow | |
| Chorus | |
| 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 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 whack MC, coz you know there' s a lot of them | |
| Wait ' til 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 aint nothing | |
| I got the track laid like I' m fucking | |
| The only balls you got is made out of cotton. | |
| Chorus | |
| This is what you waited for | |
| Glad you stayed the course | |
| 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 cause it' s made up | |
| I' m strolling like babies with big gats, ladies | |
| That rock more fellahs than ten thousand daisies | |
| Harder than harboring 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 a lie | |
| So I' m not gonna sit here and whine like crushed grapes | |
| My mind leaves you speechless like duct tape. | |
| Chorus | |
| Wait a minute, wait a minute laughter | |
| The dusty foot philosopher, | |
| Ripping up kilometers, | |
| Faster than you officer, da da da da da da | |
| The dusty foot philosopher, | |
| Sicking off the monitor, | |
| Waking up the auditors, da da da da da da | |
| Why are his feet so dusty? |
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