24k Dirt

Liberty Beats

24k Dirt

0:00

-3:38

24k Dirt

So give me everything you got, and then you give me some more!

Unkle Bonehead

Oct 06, 2025

Another one from the $avior.AI persona’s debut “Golden P.T.”

This link will get you my entire catalog of all of my AI music tracks up to the this point in time. The zip file is 7.5GB. All tracks are fully mixed/remixed, mastered and fully tagged with artwork flac files.

Spread them to anybody and everybody you can because every song has a message about the freedom and sanctity of every individual and that trumps any and every state.

The link should be good until 11/03/25

https://www.swisstransfer.com/d/e5ad2149-a825-4627-96a4-740ba9d60a19

Lyrics:
Yeah, this the sound of the upgrade.

[Verse 1]
Got the Gucci on the socks, but the boots still muddy and cracked
Drive the foreign whip slow down the same old dirt road track
I’m the contradiction you can’t categorize, baby, I’m too real
Got a champagne taste and a hunger you can see, feel, and heal
I don’t need your approval, I already signed my own check
I came up from the bottom, climbing over the rubble and neck-to-neck
You see the chain gleaming, you don’t see the price that I paid
Still got the hunger from the struggle, even though the fortune is made.

[Pre-Chorus]
Yeah! Y’all better listen when I step in the room!
I might have bought the mountain, but I still got the boom!
I’m the one who didn’t buckle when the pressure hit the floor!
So give me everything you got, and then you give me some more!

[Chorus]
THIS IS 24K DIRT! Yeah, that’s what I bleed!
Pure gold effort in the shadow of your greed!
I took the pain and the struggle and the hate you threw my way
And turned it into currency that shines for me today!
24K DIRT! We don’t wash it off!
It’s the trophy I earned, not the lesson that I scoffed!

[Verse 2]
The critics are loud, the doubters are louder, they’re calling me a fraud
Say I sold my soul for the radio, traded my street for God
But they ain’t seen the late nights, the empty rooms, the hunger pangs
The years I spent just scraping by while they were chasing cheap bangs
I built this empire brick by brick with my own two hands and sweat
I don’t fit in your category, I’m the one you can’t forget
I’m the blue-collar anthem dressed up in a silky suit
The taste of high-end money with the bitter, bitter root.

[Bridge]
They preach authenticity but they buy their whole aesthetic
They measure success in filters, man, my sh*t is prosthetic!
I’m raw, I’m uncut, I’m the real deal, baby, look at the proof!
I could buy your whole catalog and then I’d buy your roof!
I speak for the grinders, the ones who went against the grain
The ones who stood in the pouring flood and still survived the rain!

[Verse 3]
Yeah, I still tip the waitress with a hundred dollar bill
‘Cause I remember the short straw, the struggle on the hill
I keep my circle small, the loyalty is priceless and true
I might fly private now, but I remember standing in the queue
The critics try to box me in, they try to dim my shine
But I’m too loud, too heavy, too much of a perfect crime
I’m the blueprint for the self-made, the testament to the will
You can take the kid out of the ghetto, but the ghetto’s in him still.