[Verse 1]
Yeah, I’m infantry, boots cemented in the mud and the blood,
You a Cav scout, just a glorified Uber with a gun.
Rolling round in your tin can, feeling safe and superior,
While I’m kissing dirt, eating hate, getting way more familiar.
You got thermals, I got eyeballs and spite,
You spot at three klicks, I still own the fight.
Your biggest flex is “I saw him first” on the net,
Mine’s “I killed him last” with iron sights and regret.
[Hook]
Tracks ain’t boots, motherfucker, tracks ain’t boots
You ride to the objective, we become the route
You got horsepower, I got heart and a prayer,
When the ramp drops I’m already there.
[Verse 2]
You call for QRF when your Stryker gets a flat,
I call my boys when we low on mags – that’s where it’s at.
You post screenshots like “intel confirmed, enemy in sight,”
I post nothing ‘cause the ones who matter don’t need Wi-Fi at night.
Your crew chief’s screaming “driver move!” like it’s Call of Duty,
I’m whispering “stay low” while I’m crawling through the humidity.
You got 25 tons of armor between you and the pain,
I got Kevlar, balls, and a soul that’s half-stain.
[Hook]
Tracks ain’t boots, motherfucker, tracks ain’t boots
You patrol the AO, we are the AO’s roots
You dismount to take a piss and call that “ground truth,”
I been ground truth since the day I left the youth.
[Bridge – spoken, cold]
You flexin’ your JLTV like it’s a status symbol,
I flex silence when I ghost through the treeline simple.
You need clearance to engage, I need a reason not to,
That’s the difference between cavalry and infantry, fam – honor.
[Verse 3 – final burial]
So keep your 30-mike-mike and your fancy drone feed,
I’ll take my 240, my will, and this hate that I breed.
When your track gets lit up and you’re screaming for cas,
Infantry’s already there – kicking in doors, taking ass.
You the appetizer, we the whole fuckin’ course,
Cavalry scouts the menu, infantry eats the source.
So next time you wanna talk big from inside your ride,
Remember: tracks can’t run when there’s infantry outside.
[Outro – slow fade]
Yeah…
Tracks ain’t boots.
Never will be.
11B forever.
Suck it, Cav.
DJgrendel
