Concrete jungle, full of exotic creatures, real survival niche/

Cant escape sratching dis unbearable itch/

Tha hood is a training ground for da lost and found/

We take pride like rocky balboa knocking down ivan drago/

Real life struggle, living inside a bubble/

Its like dat being born were u at, searching alleys like a cat/

Life is more pleasant in Da Ghetto slammed to a mat/

You cant take da hood away from your past/

its their every time u hear crawling mobs of rats/

Yeah, gun claps and human craps in da corner laying flat/

Wake up to reality at its best dividing gangs in different sects

Living underneath a trench, warming up da bench/

I smell a stench of bodies burning as da wheel is turning/

Working, breaking backs for useless acts of laboring/

Slaves unda da power from cracker cowards savoring/

The moment of our torment like a tennis tournament/

Never see green trees with joggers running in our street/

Ghetto life is da beat, moving to da sound of heat./

Popping out of nowhere like a missile launched from da sea/

Ghetto state of mind is tha way i move guided i groove/

Stay tuned, same channel, same time, and same crew/

Feinds On The Mic stay true/