Detroit’s Son Songtext
von Guilty Simpson

I′m trying to have ice chandeliers, buy stamped sneers
Saw me flash with the cash, paradise in the mirror
Sights for my peers, I tell them short stories
Fam was like, "I feel you seeing all of that for me"
I'm fast like a four four forty
Women want to score me and have me on Maury
Grave mistake trying to play me like a shorty
I′m treacherous, make it look effortless, raking up my quarterlies

Me and my disorderlies
Blowing smoke signals to assure the weed Pyrenees
Hood rats porter peas, I should've said peace Porter
While my enemy stares could freeze water, we need order
Yeah, I'm holding up the four like we played three quarters
I′m back with a vengeance, vowed to get revenge through my sentence
Before we kick the door off the hinges


My millimeter takes inches
You′re buried in your yard with your foot in your dentures
I'm getting it with interest, slap my own arm at you insects
Without time to invest
I packed up, kissed my girl
Told her bye and left my footprints on the world

How could you say your man′s not thorough?
I'm gliding over hurdles so high my blood curdles

Elevated and I won′t stop till I'm celebrated
I′m doing this for those like, "You'll never make it"
Huh? Is that so? We laughed about it with my fans at my last show
Cash flow coming, I used to cop onions
Bagged it up and got a rush when I let a half go
And now I'm like a rap natural
Reborn Armstrong like the great Satchmo

Detroit son, and we getting money till the law comes
Yeah, Detroit bred, for good luck I break a leg

The underdog, underground, underestimated
Spit pavement, cracked the Johnny Walker, got wasted
Straight no ice from the city where they′ll take your life
If you don′t want to get left, go right
Yeah, this pain sits dormant
Dread the phone calls in the morning because it involves mourning
I heard my mans B took three broad day on Six Mile
Couldn't say bye because I was touring


Another cold case they′re ignoring

Ensuring our work's not important

They want me to follow these foreign policies
But what about the teens and the tourists?
Where the tourists aiming at civilians, heartless
Grown man game amongst children
No, I′m not in the building, I'm building
I was told the way to get back is keep living
This vehicle of music is keeping me driven
And my tank′s on full, so watch your mouth
I'm plotting on copping a house
So I'm all about my chicken and I take no bull, yeah

Detroit son, and we getting money till the law comes
Yeah, Detroit bred, for good luck I break a leg

Detroit son
Detroit son
Detroit son