1. 1.
    (bkz: state of the world address) (bkz: biohazard)

    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
    1 ... dolayli zarf tumleci