Songwriters: Ritchie, Bob; Maddox, William M; Shaffer, Matt; Moore, David Leslie;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 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 pass 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 fucking pavement  Is that Kracker with a C? No Kracker with a K  Kracker motherfucker all goddamn day  You could take gratiot south but that's a real rough route  You'll get found face down with your pockets hangin' out    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    My name is Cowboy  My name is Cowboy  I'm, I'm, I'm goin' platinum    Back in the motherfuckin' saddle wanna battle Kid Rock  Bitch your up shits creek without a paddle  I'm no tattle 'cause I do not snitch  I lick slits n' drop cock 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 dick with a 30 odd 6  And from a thousand yards I'll hit ya right in the lips, shit  Motherfuckers wanna talk about shining  Here's four fingers kiss my fuckn' diamonds  I keep climbin' but these charts ain't shit  I'm a whinini', 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    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    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 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 and cats that scrap  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  Whores and 4 4's n' scoops n' blow and fuck fay go bitch  We pound 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    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      © BURIED BONE MUSIK LLC; UNIVERSAL-SONGS OF POLYGRAM INT'L; EMI BLACKWOOD MUSIC INC.;    these lyrics are last corrected by OarSmaN