[Verse 1]
Raised on red clay
Now I’m scraping up snow
Alabama to the mitten
Third grade, new code
Sterling Estates kids
Turning crates into gold
East Coast in the Walkman
Every bar felt cold
Hardcore in the headphones
Front steps, same crew
Kick rocks ‘round potholes
Dreamt far from that view
[Chorus]
From Sterling to the D, we were flipping dreams
Little hands on the zip, big eyes on the screen
From the burbs to the block to the rich kids’ scene
Turn the stash to a house, turn the house to a beam (light up)
From Sterling to the D, we were building routes
Turn a quiet cul-de-sac to a packed-out house
From the back of the bus to the front of the crowd
We were nobodies then
But we’re talking out loud (right now)
[Verse 2]
Bus rides down Gratiot
Back home, two worlds
Hand-me-down cold gear
Same heart, same swirl
Hit the burbs, different pressure
Same hunger, new plays
Flip a stack into sneakers
Then into stage days
Rich kids in the rap house
We snuck in through the side
Deep floors, deep bass
We just wanted a mic
[Chorus]
From Sterling to the D, we were flipping dreams
Little hands on the zip, big eyes on the screen
From the burbs to the block to the rich kids’ scene
Turn the stash to a house, turn the house to a beam (light up)
From Sterling to the D, we were building routes
Turn a quiet cul-de-sac to a packed-out house
From the back of the bus to the front of the crowd
We were nobodies then
But we’re talking out loud (right now)