Uncle Kracker - Heaven
Chorus:
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
(chorus)