Muad'Dib, the spice is the worm indeed,
What's that he's spittin'?
Nom de plume from science fiction,
Murkin' fools whenever my name in they mouth,
Talk plain and slow like I reside in the south,
Nomad, so glad to sell my residential pad,
Always on the move like old school gypsy cabs,
Keepin' the meter running,
Charge 'em worse by the verse,
Plus when they pushing up daisies,
I'll be driving the hurst,
Pull it up to the curb,
My payroll carry them slow like pallbearers,
Carrying other's burdens like novice tax preparers,
Death and tax wrath inevetible like tomorrow,
Battling Muad'Dib brings foes nothing but sorrow.