[Verse 1: Guilty Simpson]
Peace to the home team, my peoples do they own thing
They letting more than a phone ring
We put the world on wheels -- the Motor City, baby
The big three, original shit; they bit the whole thing
Gold rings, Carti frames, iced chains, all of that
Crisp And Ones, the fourth letter on the ball caps
I'm talking that realest on the map shit
I'm from Detroit, so the raps fit
I'm from where you gotta earn as far as the block's concerned
The rubber they burn in Cadillac whips
Been through more shit than catfish
Home of the Amazon big-body black chick
Detroit, the city's got a wild rep
That explains why over seven hundred thou left
But the industry tends to follow the trends
The same motherfuckers from the Mile set
Yes

[Hook]
Get up your rep, your reputation
Stick around

[Verse 2: Guilty Simpson]
Cold winters, hot summers
Murders in high numbers
Enemies tuck tails and hide from us
But love to the glove, it's Michigan pride
Where they choose to flip a pie, then give him a ride
Cause he can't survive on nickels and dimes
So a lot goes inside sticking to crime
Pulling homicides off liquor and lines
Still the crooked swine put clips in your mind
All the while, they getting them blind
Ice brightless, chilling the time
Hustlers, but quick to turn gangsters
Whenever motherfuckers'll give 'em a sign
I earned stripes and got my scars
Some wonder honestly how I got so far
I'm like, damn, how could you not go hard?
The top is ours, and I'm driven for mine
Let's go

[Hook]