Sweat Street
The Blueboys call it Mack Avenue
But we like to call it Sweat Street
Because the Blueboys, wearing shields
Like to make us sweat. Sweat the
Black girls with white teeth smiling
Inviting suits and old bar guys to
Love them in their secret hideaways
Sweat Golden boys selling blow
And crack dreams to window shoppers
Cruising the old Detroit bricks
In their UAW horse carriages
Sweat the others; the wine people
The crackheads, the shooters
And juicers that choose to die on
This street that the Blueboys
Behind their shields call the Mack
But we know as Sweat Street
We know it when they come with helmets
And clubs to roust the population
We know it when they rub our faces in
The old bricks with our hands cuffed
That under their facemasks they are
Laughing about how they’re gonna
Sweat some old shaking wino. How
They’re gonna sweat the young
Black bitch crack mother that sells
Her lips and ass. Yeah, they laugh
About how she’d probably blow the
Precinct to get back to the Mack
Back to the smoke and the suits that
Play in the split between her
Hips and legs. Laugh while
They sweat the shit out of that
White John they caught breathing
On his whore. Sweat him good
Because they found a little Red
In a baggie under his front seat
Put the sweat on the Golden boys, the
Bold boys selling good dope on the
Shields turf. Jail them Golden boys
Until they wilt in their irons
Gonna sweat the young lawyer type
From Wayne State and his art student
Girlfriend. They laugh because the
Sweat rolls like tears on their faces
Maybe that Grosse Pointe bitch will
Offer to blow the Precinct too. Relax
Pointe kids, this is how they keep this
Street down. This is how they keep us
From burning this town. This is how
They sweat them down on this street
If your Daddy don’t like it tell him to
Keep you home. But best of all they like
To sweat old longhairs that never
Left this street from the sixties. And
It’s not easy sometimes to make them sweat
You may have to strip them naked and
Scare them old hippies on a trip
Into to the demon flashbacks. Yeah, LSD
Makes it easier to sweat them. Or you can
Kill them. “Damn that’s funny,” they say
Icy breath blowing out from behind their
Facemasks. But what they don’t know is
We know all this. We know why they don’t
Want anything to really change. We are an
Excuse to remain estranged. No, this here
Street ain’t no Mack Avenue. This is
Sweat Street.
