"These our HOMES — y'all can't take em"

I’m moved by this song by Detroit artist Mic Write. Bold and beautiful defiance in the face of a foreclosure monster. Come out and support The Tricycle Collective with me tomorrow night — buying back homes to save them from auction for families.

H.O.M.E.S. {{{LYRICS}}}

[INTRO]:

Where I’m from

we wear our scars like verses

they tell stories.

We are walking chapbooks,

poetry galvanized into our skin

like Big 3 automotive steel

through proud assembly line palms

We seem to break ourselves down

just to handcraft our own resurrection

like life is just some shattered engine block,

and picking the pieces up ain’t hard no more

It’s hobby

(we put it down like)

[MIC WRITE]:

Ni66a this that Rock’N’Rye/

Ice cold, front porch, scorching

Ni66a this that dotted eye/

Pissed, Joe Louis fist still punching

Ni66a this that Spotify/

We don’t play that shit, you done opened Pandora

tryna occupy/

My city, my block, my street/

Why pity my stock I eat/

I read, I learn, I care

I think your data is obsolete/ (look)

Ni66a this that miss me with your savior complex/

Ni66a this that school aint got no budget why we paying Congress/

Ni66a this that,

artist sharpened in the heart of hardened environments/

Ni66a this that parking in the dark & christening Belle Isle/

This that,

Eastern Market where we often walking & we bargain shopping/this,

this that coughing from the coffin- we still alive/

This that,

Kayser Soze of locations, standing ovation/

from coming back from the dead for the umpteenth time,

we don’t die, we do re’/

mi fa so la ti do over Titos holding back our Jacksons/

Me I’m Mic, I put Motown on my back to get it back

HOMES

[HOOK]:

These our HOMES

Y’all can’t take em, Y’all cant take em

These our HOMES

These the places we grew up

These the sets that we threw up

This our crib, This our rib,

Y’all can’t take what I aint gone give

Ni66a this my Heaven Of My Everyday

Heaven Of My Everyday

Heaven Of My Everyday Surroundings (2x)

Ni66a these our HOMES

[DOSS THE ARTIST]:

Ni66a this that neighbor done lost his home cuz his taxes late

Ni66a this that student with no school to go/

so he don’t go to school no mo/

he out on Joy road selling “achoo”, that blow/

maybe sticky green, Coppers gon watch him if he sneeze/

government watch him if he tweet/

streets do watch him if he Bling

over dem watches, over dem choppers, open up two shoots till he bleed/

aint no one stop them,/

and still he survive, it’s no surprise he opens his eyes and ask for me,/

and is there heaven for a G?/

And I just laugh when they get mad at the rose from the concrete/

fix yo roads- shouldn’t no rose ever be growing from these streets/

shouldn’t even be no concrete/

nigga this want my seeds free/

like son it’s Go Time, in Motown, it’s yo time eat/ ya see

The higher you leap the harder you fall/

but right now, Imma leap so high I don’t need no bungee at all/

See I’m just drift from a star/

I’m leave y’all blinking in awe/

as you watch this Detroit (D-twa) Heavyweight/

reaching for heaven every day/

These our H.O.M.E.S

[[HOOK]]:

[OUTRO]:

Ain’t no big bad wolf, no hungry breath gone/

blow my heart down, give me home or give me death/

they

thinking we built this thing from straw & sticks/

naw

3rd pig law: only build your love in bricks

“These our HOMES — y’all can’t take em”