This is a song about "Dust"

If you feel it, it must be real just

47. and com bust into dust,

You brushed the dust off the rhyming dictionary under your bed

Then it bunny hopped off my shoulder, now my conscience dead

These hoes say i'm a poet i try to make em different

Trophy's that stack up by my window pane, they're stained. gather dust,

A straight thug motherfucker who ain't scared to bust

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

Anti-violent...stylin, lyrically inclined and

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

Fine women love losers, that treat 'em bad and cheap

Ben's left in the dust wallowin in defeat

Revolvers, automatics, guns stay silent

It'll be like nothing to us but dust,