First Ones on This Dirt

[Intro]
Yeah
Uh
Been here
Way before they drew them lines
[Verse 1]
My granny said
"Boy, this dust know your name"
Red clay caked on my Js
Same clay stained on her dress
Same clay sat on her braids
Cotton fields, pine trees
We been grew up in this heat
Before them courthouse papers
We was roots under they feet
They built fences on our footsteps
Gave our rivers different words
But the stories still in Sunday suits
And in the way we stir the herbs
From the drums in our heartbeat
To the hum in our church
We the first ones on this dirt
They just showed up with a verse
[Chorus]
We the first ones on this dirt (on this dirt)
From the mud to the work (to the work)
From the fields to the turf
Say it loud till it hurt (till it hurt)
We the first ones on this dirt (on this dirt)
Every stone, every word
They can write what they want in they books
But the land know who came here first (yeah)
[Verse 2]
Look
Ain't no map ever made my people
We was walkin' 'fore the borders
Cookin' soul in every season
Turned that pain into order
Every oak got our secrets
Every porch got our laugh
Every hymn got that accent
They can't steal that from the past
They rename what we remember
Try erase, try reverse
But my mama face look ancient
Like the whole world in her purse
We the morning in this delta
We the thunder in this earth
They keep callin' us minority
But we older than they words, yeah
[Chorus]
We the first ones on this dirt (on this dirt)
From the mud to the work (to the work)
From the fields to the turf
Say it loud till it hurt (say it loud)
We the first ones on this dirt (on this dirt)
Every stone, every word
They can write what they want in they books
But the land know who came here first
[Bridge]
Hands up
For your granddaddy grind
Hands up
For your grandma mind
Hands up
For the ones they ain't teach
Still we standin' right here
On the front of this beach (yeah)
[Chorus]
We the first ones on this dirt (on this dirt)
From the mud to the work (to the work)
From the fields to the turf
Say it loud till it hurt (till it hurt)
We the first ones on this dirt (on this dirt)
Every stone, every word
They can write what they want in they books
But the land know who came here first (who came first)

rap, Southern rap over trunk-rattling low-end and swung hats; slow, confident pocket with male vocals leaning into a preacher-meets-trapper cadence. Hook hits with stacked call-and-response chants, verses ride minor-key churchy keys and bluesy guitar licks. Second verse brings in organ swells and gospel hums for a proud, ancestral uplift; last hook doubles up ad-libs and drops the beat on key phrases for crowd participation.