Inner City Pressure (Remix)

[Hook: Goldie (Sampled)] Inner city life Inner city pressure [Verse 1: Context] Are we living right? Do we do drugs enough? Drunken fucks until your piss stinks of sugar puffs Crack out of cocaine in Hawksmoor Feel like Tony Soprano up in the pork store You live at home, you're naive, how do you manage? Like thinking the Twin Towers collapsed from fire damage But how we live is peak, cause last week buried this geez, yeah And his son's laying a wreath, cuffed to police, yeah, out on day release [Verse 2: Blizzard] Life of an artist on a struggle that I need to show ya Thickest coat, yet I'm continuously feeling colder Twenty spot inside my pocket till this week is over Quote "making it big", unquote, yeah I'm sleeping on the sofa Every soul in this big city expects a favour Last night, someone kicked me for standing left on the escalator Four nights in a row, I've been eating fried chicken I guess that's just the way that I'm living, inner city pressure [Hook] [Verse 3: Danny Graft] ICP, but only on this makeshift toilet I'm destroying like the trees ain't what I need Inner city pressure, tight jeans, skinny sweater Feeling Polo mint, looking like I'm living better Ironic class politics that make you fast wanna quit Or pick a side to ride a new tide, there's something on this list Me, I'm getting on a bit, still I'm getting on a bit But never no pressure, love, I'm living how I wanna live [Verse 4: Mikill Pane] Blocks, streets and towers full of squatters, fiends and prowlers Looking for rocks, needles, powders and whatever feeds their powers From shottas, dealers, traffickers and they've got a little piece of the tax [?] So they shop for sneakers for hours, on jobseeker's allowance Lots of police around em, the cops are seen as cowards The heroes get exchanged for cash, but you've got to see the ounce first Because we can't trust a soul, yo, as far as we can throw the cunt Pressure's got you so low that it's hard to believe you're not the only one [Hook] [Verse 5: Sincere] Council tax, electric, phone bill, water Road tax, internet, soon be charged to take a breath But how can I complain when it's a blessing just to make your bed? Kids in the third world would die to live in our world Rags on their back, no shoes on their feet And I'm pissed when someone so gets the Yeezys before me This inner city life ain't as hard as it seems But still, I can't ignore the fact the ends are mad, kids raising kids with no dad [Verse 6: Context] A small town lad, yep, inner city trap Live in a flat that's so small, I can barely swing a cat I tell these A&Rs I'm mustard But if you work in music, you know that logic, it can't be trusted So what am I making sound for? Will I be acclaimed, yeah, when I'm buried in the ground? Or Will I never make it? When you're in the underground, you're Constantly a day late, forever you're a pound short [Hook x2]