This is a song about "Dimonds in the dust"

Hopping to get eaten by a gust, i'm not the greatest, i'm just an atom of a dust.

Making g's was my missionmoving enough of this shit to get my mama out the kitchen and

Swept out of your life, like the dust on the floor

And they sore on hatin' reality that i ignore

Real nigga, pardon whoever feel different

Crushin up untill weed it is fine dust (fine dust)

Somebody tell satan that i want my fuckin' swag back

Fuck the song to dust till theyre like "where the track at?"

Wow, that hook sucked, yo throw it in the dust

Fresh to death that bullshit irrelevant

She blushed, the clothes came off, and i bust heri'm up now, ready to get drunk on the block

With some white dust from wings i crushed back in the knack/ and a rack of spices i pour on top/

All the bad strippers gotta greet me with the government

Some people take the pain away with liquor or smoking dust,