Raise Dust (Kountry Kingston)

Cowboy hat low, sun beat down, Clarks hit dirt on the edge of town. Bassline roll through the old fence post, Smoke in the air like a wandering ghost. One-drop knock with a backroad drum, Whole field know when the Yardman come. Boots pon earth, let the whole thing bust— Kingston touch road—better raise that dust. ⸻ [VERSE 1 — 16 BARS] Black tee mean with the sleeves rolled high, Gunmetal flash when the sun catch light. Old Ford shake when the low-end hit, Plates bent up from the backroad skids. Guitar snarl with a riddim underneath, Dust-cloud pack and the heat in teeth. Fence line rattle when the bass roll through, Whole damn county know we don’t play cute. Scuffed-up boots, got work on mine, Rust in the jar with the moonshine brine. Pretty little gyal in a cutoff tee, Say she never felt trouble stomp like me. I tell her easy, but I keep that spine, Night turn wild when the wrong cross line. DJ wheel it, let the drumline crush— If a man act tough, we go raise that dust. ⸻ [CHORUS — 8 BARS] Raise dust! When the bassline drop. Raise dust! Till the whole thing rock. Boots pon ground, let the riddim run, Country moon meet Jamaican sun. Raise dust! Let the night get loud. Raise dust! Bring the whole damn crowd. From the backroad dirt to the Kingston bus— When we touch road, better raise that dust. ⸻ [VERSE 2 — 16 BARS] Bonfire roar, pickup doors wide, Reggae pon speaker with the dark outside. Old man nod with a scarred-up hand, Young boys post like they guard that land. Cowgirl wine when the guitar bend, One-drop kick make her move again. Steel-string cry then the 808 roll, Tough-hearted crew with a rough-cut soul. Chain-link hum when the crowd get live, If you step wrong, better step back twice. Truck bed packed, whole field ignite, Somebody yell, “Try we!” from the passenger side. Hat tilt back, put the cup up high, Bass hit hard make the red dirt fly. If tomorrow vexed, let tomorrow cuss— Tonight we raw when we raise that dust. ⸻ [CHORUS — 8 BARS] Raise dust! When the bassline drop. Raise dust! Till the whole thing rock. Boots pon ground, let the riddim run, Country moon meet Jamaican sun. Raise dust! Let the night get loud. Raise dust! Bring the whole damn crowd. From the backroad dirt to the Kingston bus— When we touch road, better raise that dust. ⸻ [VERSE 3 — 16 BARS] Sun coming up but nobody gone, Fire burn low, riddim still strong. Mud pon Clarks, hat gone sideways, One man bleeding but he laugh same way. Horse fence broke—leave the past in grass, Rum bottle empty and the taillight smashed. One girl grinning with my chain round neck, Say I backed man down when he flexed and stepped. Old boys smirk like, “Yeah, man’s tough.” Whole night rowdy like the law gave up. No big sermon, no preacher booth, Sometimes trouble is proof you move. Road turn harsh, then the road turn sweet, Still gotta lace both boots on feet. If life draw blood and the world get rough— Turn that shit up and raise some dust. ⸻ [CHORUS — 8 BARS] RAISE DUST! When the bassline drop. RAISE DUST! Till the whole thing rock. Boots pon ground, let the riddim run, Country moon meet Jamaican sun. RAISE DUST! Let the night get loud. RAISE DUST! Bring the whole damn crowd. From the backroad dirt to the Kingston bus— WHEN WE TOUCH ROAD, BETTER RAISE THAT DUST. ⸻ [OUTRO / REFRAIN — 8 BARS] Boots pon dirt. Bassline roll. Guitar growl. One-drop soul. Sun come up. Still one of us. Road stay rugged. Raise that dust. Hat down low. Engine start. Fire burn deeper inside that heart. Road ahead— and that’s enough. Keep it gritting. RAISE THAT DUST.