Skilla Baby - 3501 Woodward lyrics

Huh? Detroit raised me
Detroit, let me walk you through my city
Huh?

I used to live in Section
8 housing with my pops
My hood was the gun range
I'm used to hearing shots
Lost a couple of my close
Friends to this shit
Neck froze, heart cold, head still hot
Judge talkin' 'bout my music
In the court room he don't wanna see me pop
He wanna see me rot earned everything I got
Wasn't born with a lot
Dwayne Johnson in the pot
Hit a head with the rock
Tore the baking soda 'til it lock
Open up the shop
I ain't seen nobody on the corner with me
Ronnie Lott
Fuck I look like beefin' with a Papa Doc?
I could not fuck with no bitch that's
Out hеre givin' lame niggas twat
Bond No 9 mixed with Prada and thе Baccarat
I bring extra luggage on the flight
'cause I shop a lot
When my young nigga see an opp
He tryna pop his top
We gon' keep the trap doors swingin'
'til the block get hot
I can have a hundred 'bows pull
Up 'fore a blunt get rolled
Wrist baptized and my neck dunked in gold
Broke all the 'bows down to zips
This an onion roll
If I don't make at least fifteen hundred
I ain't comin' home
I need a pretty-ass bitch
That accept my flaws
I been puttin' in work, I'm goin' extra hard
I like hand-in hands
I don't really F with fraud
Still can't believe they stretched my dog
Still can't believe my
Life lookin' make-believe
Knew how to make some cheese
'fore I knew my ABCs
Brodie in that nigga bush
Tryna bake his beans
Did Amiri all year, I'm finna play Celine
They gon' really blitz niggas if
I say it's green
I don't waste my words, everything I say
I mean i be fresh as hell
All the bitches say I'm clean
I know some old niggas that'll
Kill a brick for me
How I make the 'bow money
Look like brick money
All I know is get money
Even with my eyes closed
Man, these niggas givin' fake
Pressure like a rhinestone
Nigga, I could sell a hundred
'bows with a blindfold (Huh?)
I ain't gon' lie, my mind gone
I'm kinda zoned out
I got a lot of money, I don't need no clout
I got a whole route
Young nigga made two hundred
In a whole drought i cannot fake this shit
I cannot make this up
I know the bitches love me
These niggas hate my guts
My Drac'll leave a nigga flat
You gotta scrape him up
Sold so many boxes for my plug
That nigga gave me one
I don't know how to love bitches
Never gave me love
My mama raised a good man
I'm tryna raise me one
I never be havin' no time
I'm tryna save me some
I was raised by a good
Man and an amazing woman, huh?
And me, my mommy, and my sister
They taught me how to love
Took 'em twenty years
But they finally acceptin' that I'm a thug
Family members wanna be around me
'cause I got a buzz
Where was y'all at when I was stealin'
I was robbin'?
When I was hungry, gettin' fired
From them jobs, man, i had to rob
Niggas played it crazy, I ain't stress
I left it up to God
Worth enough to put cheese on his
Head like I'm Randall Cobb
Money over bitches, I be with the mob, huh?