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Walking in the subway |
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alone late at night |
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New York city gangs |
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everywhere in sight |
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You feel their anger upon you |
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you feel their hateful eyes |
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walk a little faster now |
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you're fighting for your life |
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As they walk on closer |
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their eyes burn down your back |
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you feel a thousand cries |
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not prepared for their attack |
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A mission bell sent sign |
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a sign that you board soon |
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you've come this far, no turning back |
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we hope you make it too |
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Don't expect, sympathy |
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we don't know, the word |
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you walked my turf, insanity |
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but in this place you die |
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Your life is wasted |
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your blood is tasted |
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as it drips down the blade |
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You didn't make it |
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you couldn't take it |
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you walked the subway you paid |
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Your money's gone |
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your clothes they're torn |
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you're lying in a pool of blood |
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You know you're leaving |
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we watch you grieving |
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but in this place you die |
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Don't expect sympathy |
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we don't know the word |
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you walked my turf, insanity |
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but in this place you die |