Yo it's the inner city blues goin' through my headphonesnStarin' at space and runnin through the red zonenFeel like rhymin', freestylin'nGoing back in the time when brothaz wasn't wil'nnBut nowadays it's a brand new tacticnBrothas be gettin fly and traveling galactic, uhnBetter beam down to earth, I'm blowing up with mine firstnnWhen I was young I used to roll with thugs that sold drugs nExporting high-caliber weapon transportingnIt was very important to the niggaz on the blocknthat you knew how to get down when it was time to rocknCame like we was raised on a farmnI mean, niggaz be on they way to school gettin' clicked onnIn '81 niggaz used to get thrown up in a suplex and robbed for their summer-youth checks, whatnOther stick-up kids lookin' like 'who's next?'nRunnin' out, knockin' niggaz out in two steps or three stepsnPreceps' ran sprintin'nEveryday was a fight like it was San QuentinnNiggaz hidden about who been snitchin to the deannAt 3 o'clock his wig got split upon the seamnI guess a buck-50 just ain't good enough no morenKids be playin' tag with the four-four magnLittle bad muthafuckaz need to stay in schoolnShorty I went the same route so I'm droppin the jewelnMad niggaz gettin' killed over nuttin'nStraight squeezin' off on muthafuckaz nwhen you hit they nerve buttonnnYo it's the inner city blues goin' through my headphonesnStarin' at space an' runnin through the red zonenFeel like rhymin', freestylin'nGoing back in the time when brothaz wasn't wil'nnBut nowadays it's a brand new tacticnBrothas be gettin fly and traveling galactic, uhnBetter beam down to earth, I'm blowing up with mine firstnnYo, I heard this chick say she wanted a ruff-necknNiggaz tryin ta be ruff-necks but, yo nigga fuck thatnTryin' ta act wild and get a nigga killednHook him up to the respirator & put him on tilt, wordnBad boys move in silencenwith said bad boys caught two wit a silencer to his heah, uhnSome niggaz lucky enough to do it & live through itnI had a chance but I chose not to pursue itnMost of the ruff niggaz I know be like dead or locked upnWhen they come home by niggaz look blownnSwollen up, but the times is changinnYa betta get hip and get a grip mad quick niggan1 to 3 is no joke, 5 to 10 is even worsen25 years, I'll be cryin' steel tearsnTrying ta send a bomb-letter to the judgenSpecial delivery nigga, you made a lifetime grudge, uhnI make a shank out a spoon or a light fixturenStay alert and try ta keep out of the mixturenI never smoke cigarettes but I get 'em so I could sell 'emnHere comes statik, somebody better tell 'em (what)nMy walk here be like 5 or 6 playasnwith books tied to me & I'm a 7:30 playanThis ain't the time to be franchise neckin'nThe trouble arises quicker than the national deficitnnYo it's the inner city blues goin' through my headphonesnStarin' at space an' runnin through the red zonenFeel like rhymin', freestylin'nGoing back in the time when brothaz wasn't wil'nnBut nowadays it's a brand new tacticnBrothas be gettin fly and traveling galactic, uhnBetter beam down to earth, I'm blowing up with mine first