Inner city strugglin’, motherfuckin’ rat race Condemned pressure cooker, that explodes in your face Another neighborhood gets destroyed by the drug deal Staking a claim on an estate that is real Pay the mob’s price for your own protection Half a wise guy makes the wrong connections Flooding our streets with your wanna be bullshit Who whacks who, don’t matter who gets hit The space between the death of our friends is so close This month it was neglect, our boy died of an overdose Last month a gunshot, a typical story That’s just the way it goes in a failed territory No hope, just dope, and your chances are slim To grow up and get out ’cause you’re already in The vacuum of the street so powerful Sucking you in it drains your mind by the hour fool Still smoking dippers our friends are all dusted Slave to a bottle of juice, fucking disgusted Can’t you see the neighborhood’s black hole And the odds are that we’ll never grow old Young guns scam running on a get ahead quick tip With your pretty ass crimes, you’re on a blind road trip Day to day death, wish we all carry inside Welcome to your suicide So you call yourself a part of the avenue crew Living here doesn’t offer much else to do But get into beef and take each other’s back Kid of eighteen, broke his skull with a bat Always changing with the trends like a fucking chameleon Live for yourself ’cause you’re one in a million A rebel ’cause you weren’t born into wealth But the only thing holding you down is yourself On the road we get phone calls breaking our hearts When they find someone we love in the trunk of a car Nothing you can do. just another sad story Wake up, break out An epitaph from your own self doubt
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Copy to Clipboard: Inner city strugglin’, motherfuckin’ rat race Condemned pressure cooker, that explodes in your face Another neighborhood gets destroyed by the drug deal Staking a claim on an estate that is real Pay the mob’s price for your own protection Half a wise guy makes the wrong connections Flooding our streets with your wanna be bullshit Who whacks who, don’t matter who gets hit The space between the death of our friends is so close This month it was neglect, our boy died of an overdose Last month a gunshot, a typical story That’s just the way it goes in a failed territory No hope, just dope, and your chances are slim To grow up and get out ’cause you’re already in The vacuum of the street so powerful Sucking you in it drains your mind by the hour fool Still smoking dippers our friends are all dusted Slave to a bottle of juice, fucking disgusted Can’t you see the neighborhood’s black hole And the odds are that we’ll never grow old Young guns scam running on a get ahead quick tip With your pretty ass crimes, you’re on a blind road trip Day to day death, wish we all carry inside Welcome to your suicide So you call yourself a part of the avenue crew Living here doesn’t offer much else to do But get into beef and take each other’s back Kid of eighteen, broke his skull with a bat Always changing with the trends like a fucking chameleon Live for yourself ’cause you’re one in a million A rebel ’cause you weren’t born into wealth But the only thing holding you down is yourself On the road we get phone calls breaking our hearts When they find someone we love in the trunk of a car Nothing you can do. just another sad story Wake up, break out An epitaph from your own self doubt
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