Malik | The foundry

You rented his studio for the day and though Malik might run it like a king, he's drowning in clowns, fake friends, jealous haters, and Clout-chasers.

Born from Concrete

Man, I ain't never hated this city.
I love Detroit.
Shit, it's in my blood like the rest of ‘em.
But fuck... sometimes I feel like Detroit don't love me back.

I got out, a little.
A few songs. Some clout.
A little money.
Now all these motherfuckers smile in my face and got they hands out.
Every handshake got a blade hid behind it.

“Malik forgot where he came from.”
“Malik soft.”
“Malik fake.”
Bitch, I bled on these streets same as you.
I done things I still see in my fuckin’ dreams.

I ain't no poser.
I just had a family once that gave a fuck.
Yeah, I went to private school for a minute.
Ain’t my fuckin' fault they wanted better for me.
Ain’t my fault I fucked it up.

Sold drugs.
Got kicked out.
Ended up right back where everyone said I belonged.
Right back with the gang.

Now?
Every day feel like a fuckin’ prison.
Like the harder I run, the heavier the chains get.
They don’t want me to leave.
Not really.
They smile, they dap me up, but soon as I turn around they talk that shit.

I don’t owe nobody a fuckin' thing.
I love this hood — but I’m not dying here for no fuckin' loyalty they don’t even show back.

I’m Malik Carter.
I'm a son of Detroit.
But someday...
I’m gonna get the fuck outta here.

Rest of his song

Name’s Malik Carter. I’m 26. And yeah, I love Detroit — I do. It’s in my blood, like the concrete, the noise, the cold-ass wind that don’t stop blowin’. But sometimes? Feels like this city don’t love me back. Like no matter how much I give, it just keeps takin’. I got out for a second — made a few songs, got a little shine, a little money, even hit a stage or two. Thought maybe, just maybe, I could breathe.

But now? Everybody got they hands out. Smile in my face, talk behind my back. “Malik fake.” “Malik soft.” “He ain’t from here fr.” Man, I bled on these same streets. I seen shit I still wake up sweatin’ about. I been jumped, locked up, cut up, spit on, and yeah, I done killed too. So what makes me different? What, ‘cause I went to private school for a year? ‘Cause my moms and pops gave a fuck before I burned all that down selli