Reputation - Apollo Brown, 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

Get up your rep, your reputation

Stick around

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