Uncle Kracker: Heaven

If heaven ain't a lot like Detroit I don't wanna go If heaven ain't a lot like Detroit I'd just a soon stay home If they ain't got no 8 mile Like they do up in the D Just send me to hell or Salt Lake City It would be about the same to me... It would be about the same to me Detroit city from Aretha to Aaliyah to Bob Seger to Joe Louis n' his arena an now me Paradime the mice of over achievers Smokin' sewer caps bottom feeders and parking meters A bunch of bad dudes in the mad brew and tattoos So think twice before you pass thru Or get clapped through wack crews get hurt We can take you for a ride or take you for your shirt I did it in the Bronx, I did it in Queens And you can see me do it, do it down in New Orleans Fat backs n greens I'm a scene of amazement You'll be picking all your teeth up off the fucking pavement Is that Kracker with a C? Naw Kracker with a K! Kracker mother fucker all god damn day You could take Gratiot south but that's a real rough route You'll get found face down with your pockets hangin' out (Chorus) Back in the mother fuckin' saddle Wanna battle Kid Rock bitch your up shit's creek with out a paddle I'm no tattle cause I do not snitch I lick clits n' drop cock n' twats that spit I spit like hick's n' mix hits for Flom And thats' what you call droppin' bombs Got a bullet head dick with a 30 odd 6 And from a thousand yards I'll hit ya right in the lips...shit Motherfuckers wanna talk about shinin' Here's four fingers, kiss my fuckin' diamonds I keep climbin' but these charts ain't shit I'm a whinin', linin', rhymin' son of a bitch I'm the son of a shotguns unsung cry And I'm the only MC that'll never die 'Cause if it's real you'll feel it, so check for the name Or look for the dog with the fade in the chain...yeah! (Chorus) Kracker's the name double X in size An I reside on the side where the sun rise See I'll never be touched cuz I'm outta reach Call me Kracker just be fuckin' up spots like bleach Worst in my division, I got bitches on file From the Mississippi River on back to Belle Isle I got style but it doesn't show I got more love for Detroit than you'll ever know I know cats that sling crack n cats that scrap Cats that bust beer bottles over baseball caps Cats that get drunk and like to spark up skull cats They keep sawed offs chillin' up in their trunks Whores an 44's, scoops n blow an fuck Faygo bitch We poud cans of Stroh's We run the mitten from the river way up to the farms That's why we got these fuckin' D's tattooed on our arms