Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Detroit Red, artist - Mickey Factz. Album song 740 Park Avenue, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 25.02.2016
Record label: Museum Mick
Song language: English
Detroit Red |
What they call you? |
Red. |
Red and I ain’t no punk |
Detroit red, my name is Detroit red |
Detroit red, my name is Detroit red |
Detroit red, my name is Detroit red |
Grew up in the world full of thieves, son of Earl and Louise |
Yearning for greed, I was working for me |
My Pops died on the train tracks |
Whites left em laid flat |
Cause my Momma fell in love with a man with a shade black |
Probably got his brain cracked, scared as a little kid |
Thought about law school, but that’s not what niggas did |
Cracka ass teacher thought carpentry was what it is |
Still smarter than them little bastards, I was a wiz |
My hair was red, no kind of coloring |
All natural, tried to be the black Ed Sullivan |
Moved in with Ella, I was clubbing it |
Shining shoes suffering, so I started hustling |
Train job, wasn’t cutting it |
I couldn’t fuck with it |
Serving white people wasn’t me I had enough of it |
Fell in love with Harlem, cool cats not squares |
Old country boys in green suits and conked hair |
I got drunk, smoked weed, ran numbers |
Give me some skin daddio, I was a bad brother |
Kalamazoo had my mother in the padded gutter |
She went crazy when that man dumped her |
Black hustler, turned down the army being in the packed bunker |
Dreams of a Cadillac bumper, I was a gat sucker |
Used to run packaged errands |
Thinking back, I blame it all on my lack of parents |
Midwest boy in Harlem with a whack appearance |
Gambling pennies and tips into racketeering |
Hanging out uptown, Sammy master pimpin' |
Red fox cleaning kitchens he was stacking dishes |
Man listen, I got fired from smalls |
I had to prove a point |
Selling reefers using joints, everybody knew Detroit |
Man, I was on the cops hit list, never sent list |
Was senseless, moved to 110th I still sell sticks |
Drop offs because I had the pigs searching my |
This was way before Bill Russell was on the Celtics |
Reefer money moved slow, started doing stick ups |
Cocaine I had to sniff to cure the hiccups |
Had to pick the four fifth up without a mix up |
Sammy tried to kill me because I smacked his bitch up |
Kept gambling strongly |
numbering, getting paid from Archie |
The west Indian man with good memory |
He’ll kill you in a heartbeat |
Left Harlem because he tried to spark me, wrongly |
Got back to Boston, and me and shorty was rocking |
Sophia and the sister was down and we started plotting |
Brought another guy named Rudy into the projects |
Had to set him straight so we knew that was a problem |
Wasn’t afraid to die, started willin' |
Emptied out my gun with the bullets I had inside it |
Silence, it covered the room, I had it quiet |
Put a slug back in the gun like a deposit |
Let the cylinder spin then put it to my noggin |
Popped it, nothing came out I started smiling |
Did it again, they was astonished |
But little did they know I had the bullet in my pocket |
Then we started robbing, handbags and jewelry boxes |
Going into the houses, sneakier than the mouse gets |
Money out of wallets, clothes out of closets |
Even when they snored lifted up arms and took watches |
Did it for a while, until shit got obnoxious |
Door started knocking, we got caught by the copers |
Judge gave me 10, but not because of my chargers |
But cuz Sophia and the sister looked like his daughters |
2 year crime turned into a dime cuz of racism |
I hate prison cuz I see it as a slave system |
It’s all good, should be painless, shameless |
As long as Boston and Harlem know what my name is |