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]