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letra de heaven - kid rock

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 h-ll or salt lake city
it would be about the same to me
it would be about the same to me

detroit city from the aretha to aliyah
to bob segar to joe louis
n’ his arena an now on me
paradise the mic of over achievers
smokin’ sewer cops bottom feeders
and parking meters a bunch of bad dudes
in the mad brew and tattoos
so think twice before you p-ss through

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 and greens i’m a scene of amazement
you’ll be picking all your teeth up off the f-cking pavement
is that kracker with a c? no kracker with a k
kracker motherf-cker all godd-mn day
you could take gratiot south but that’s a real rough route
you’ll get found face down with your pockets hangin’ out

my name is cowboy
my name is cowboy
i’m, i’m, i’m goin’ platinum

back in the motherf-ckin’ saddle wanna battle kid rock
b-tch your up sh-ts creek without a paddle
i’m no tattle ’cause i do not snitch
i lick slits n’ drop c-ck n’ twas that spit
i spit like hick’s n’ mix hits for flam
and that’s what you call droppin’ bombs

got a bullet head d-ck with a 30 odd 6
and from a thousand yards i’ll hit ya right in the lips, sh-t
motherf-ckers wanna talk about shining
here’s four fingers kiss my f-ckn’ diamonds
i keep climbin’ but these charts ain’t sh-t
i’m a whinini’, linin’ rhymin’ son of a b-tch
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

kracker, kracker, kracker, kracker
kracker, kracker, kracker, kracker

kracker’s the name double x in size
and i reside on the side where the sun rise
see i’ll never be touched because i’m out of reach
call me kracker just be f-ckin’ up spots like bleach
worst in my division i got b-tches 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 and cats that scr-p
cats that bust beer bottles over baseball caps
cats that get drunk and like to spark up skull
cats that keep sawed offs chillin’ up in the trunk
wh-r-s and 4 4’s n’ scoops n’ blow and f-ck fay go b-tch
we pound cans of stroh’s
we run the mitten from the river way up to the farms
that’s why we got these f-ckin’ d’s tattooed on our arms

- kid rock

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