[scratching of the words "Refuse to lose"]
Here's ya ticket, ain't nothing more sick than terror dome
I walk the path of righteous even when foul like joe peppitone
The clock awoke me, it was like a quarter past six
Got out of bed depressed home wid the kids talkin' bout real shit
Non-Phixion, if you ain't down wid us then you a victim
We stay tight like killers up north a new religion
The ghetto's hell filled wid bad luck and born thieves
Impossible greed throughout the projects mothers that blow weed
Dance like Sam...
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