| The city never sleeps, cause everybody’s sniffing coke
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| Entertainment’s slipping up and down on the strippers pole
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| The city’s far from cheap, so get the fuck out if you’re broke
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| They ain’t fighting poverty, they declared a war on the poor
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| And, who’s coming out up on top, you reckon
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| When gentrification’s such a powerful weapon
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| Get the steppin ghettos burning the hours are ticking away
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| 24 a day, a hundred lives a second
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| They got people competitive, running the race
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| I see the people afraid to live, what a disgrace
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| They put a literal or figurative gun in your face
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| When singing something gotta give, need more money to waste
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| They cock, load, aim it steadily
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| Rock, roll the game is deadly
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| Somebody please tell the world, the race is lost all ready
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| Put it in reverse and break north already
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| When in Rome, we don’t do as the romans
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| Ain’t no love man I’m through with the romance
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| See the blood on my hands and my shoulders
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| Can’t stop now, I’m reloaded
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| Many roam they have no homes
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| The beat is pure evil, for our evillous deeds
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| When in Rome, we bun down Rome
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| Signed and sealed the devious G’s
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| When in Rome, bun down Rome
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| My nose i numb in vice city
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| We hungry for more pretty, little
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| Fun, with her titties out
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| Some of us figured out
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| Who wants an inconvenient truth
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| We’re you can get a Cadillac coup
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| A six pack on the stoop a highspeed
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| Connection and a white line fever
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| Sneaker collection, look at my Adidas
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| We don’t worry much, man, we like that reefer
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| Don’t matter much if our lives is dictated by Ceasar
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| I got the game on a big screen
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| Accompanied by Jack or Jim Bean
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| Unless I finish up my sixteen
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| You call it ignorant, I call it distracted
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| Yeah, put out my cigarette and throw out the ashes
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| Hate that I learned to love this sickness, since I was born
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| That’s what my teacher called the Stockholm Syndrome
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| But I’m addicted, and I’m heading out the door
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| Man, you get the picture, can’t stand being bored
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| I want more, I want more
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| Let’s go, now
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| When in Rome, we don’t do as the romans
|
| Ain’t no love, and I’m through with the romance
|
| See the blood on my hand and my shoulders
|
| Can’t stop now, I’m reloaded
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| Men in Rome, don’t have no homes
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| The beat is pure evil, for our evillous deeds
|
| When in Rome, we bun down Rome
|
| Sign and sealed the devious G’s
|
| When in Rome, bun down Rome
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| A symphony of cars keep playing their horns
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| To accompany the never ending roar outside my door
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| Where the long arm of the law
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| Banging its drumsticks the young kids are in an uproar
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| Ha, now, that’s the rhythm of the inner city
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| Gun shot a loud, scream another victim of no pity
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| And we can split the profit fifty-fifty
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| Ain’t no way to go against the flow, it’s better getting with it
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| But the artories is congested in Metropolis
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| We’re the zombie’s peeking out through the cracks in their sarcophagus
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| And corporate vandals invade public space
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| If you want to contribute, better cover your face
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| Cause they got you on camera, but no one care any more
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| We gotta give them our rights to fight this unholy war on terror
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| So we all hummin along
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| That of key melody that familiar song
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| Like.
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| When in Rome, we don’t do as the romans
|
| Ain’t no love, and I’m through with the romance
|
| See the blood on my hand and my shoulders
|
| Can’t stop now, I’m reloaded
|
| Men in Rome, don’t have no homes
|
| The beat is pure evil, for our evillous deeds
|
| When in Rome, we bun down Rome
|
| Sign and sealed the devious G’s |