| Broken glass everywhere
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| People pissing on the station
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| Y’know they just don’t care
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| I can’t take the smell
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| I can’t take the noise
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| I got no money to move out
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| I guess I got no choice
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| Rats in the front room
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| Roaches in the back
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| Junkies in the alley with a baseball bat
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| I tries to get away but I couldn’t get far
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| Cos a man with a truncheon re-possessed my car
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| Don’t push me cos I’m close to the edge
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| I’m trying not to lose my head
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| It’s like a jungle sometimes
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| It makes me wonder how I keep from going under
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| My son said: «Daddy, I don’t wanna go to school
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| Cos the teacher’s a jerk, he must think I’m a fool
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| And all the kids smoke reefer I think it’d be cheaper
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| If I just got a job learned to be a street sweeper
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| I’ll dance to the beat, shuffle my feet wear a shirt and tie
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| And run with the creeps»
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| Cos it’s all about money ain’t a damn thing funny
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| You got to have a car in this land of milk and honey
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| A child is born with no state of mind
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| Blind to the ways of mankind
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| God is smiling on you but he’s frowning too
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| Because only God knows what you’ll go through
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| You’ll grow in the ghetto living second rate
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| And your eyes will see a song of deep hate
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| The places you play and where you stay
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| Looks like one great big alleyway
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| You’ll admire all the number book takers
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| The pimps the pushers and the big money makers
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| Driving great big cars spending twenties and tens
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| And you want to grow up to be just like them
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| Smugglers scramblers burglars gamblers
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| Pickpocket pedlars even panhandlers
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| You say I’m cool I’m no fool
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| But then you end up dropping right outa school
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| Now you’re unemployed null and void
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| Walking round like you’re Pretty Boy Floyd
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| Turn stick up kid look what you done did
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| Got sent up for an eight year bid
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| Being used and abused to serve like hell
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| Till one day you was found hung dead in the cell |