Song Page - Lyrify.me

Lyrify.me

Down the road by Frosty (Producer) Lyrics

Genre: misc | Year: 2018

All right, come on, let's cut the bullshit, enough
Let's get it started, let's start addressin' this issue, and open it up
Let's take this shit back to the basement and we can discuss
Statements that's made on this tape and its whole origin of
The music that we all know and love, the music we all enjoy
The music you accuse me of tryna destroy
Let's rewind it to '89 when I was a boy
On the east side of Detroit, crossin' 8 Mile into Warren
Into hick territory; I'd like to share a story
This is my story, and can't nobody tell it for me
You have well informed me, I am well-aware
That I don't belong here: you've made that perfectly clear
I get my ass kicked damn near everywhere
From Bel-Aire shopping center just for stopping in there
From the black side all the way to the white side
Okay, there's a bright side, a day that I might slide
You may call it a pass, I call it haulin' my ass
Through that patch of grass over them railroad tracks
Oh, them railroad tracks, them old railroad tracks
Them good old notorious so well known tracks
[Hook]
So, let's go back, follow the yellow brick road
As we go on another episode
Journey with me as I take you through this nifty little place
That I once used to call home sweet home
Come on, let's go back, follow the yellow brick road
As we go on another episode
Journey with me as I take you through this nifty little place
That I once used to call home sweet home
[Verse 2]
I'd roam the streets so much they'd call me a drifter
Sometimes I'd stick up a thumb just to hitchhike
Just to get picked up to get me a lift to
8 Mile and Van Dyke and steal a goddamn bike
From somebody's backyard, and drop it off at the park
That was the halfway mark, to meet Kim, had to walk
Back to her mama's on Chalmers after dark
To sneak me in the house when I'm kicked out my Mom's
That's about the time I first met Proof
With Goofy Gary on the steps
At Osbourne, handin' out some flyers
He was doin' some talent shows at Center Line High
I had told him to stop by and check this out sometime
He looked at me like I'm out my mind
Shook his head, like, "White boys don't know how to rhyme."
I spit out a line and rhymed "birthday" with "first place"
And we both had the same rhymes that sound alike
We was on the same shit, that Big Daddy Kane shit
Where compound syllables sound combined
From that day we was down to ride
Somehow we knew we'd meet again somewhere down the line