Culture Power45 ft. A.L.L.I.E.S. (Aneeway Jones, L.I.F.E. Long, and Iomos Marad) ft. John Robinson - “Life, Slums & Troubles”
[Emcee(s): Iomos Marad, L.I.F.E. Long, and John Robinson]
[Producer(s): Aneeway Jones]
[Sample (Melody): [?] - “[?]”]

[Verse 1: Iomos Marad]
Chicago, South Side, hatred stay high
Guns popping outside while families ducking inside
Hiding from the danger, culture: gangster
Where the black disciple a peace-stoned ranger
Latin Kings, [?], conservative, or traveler
Neutron, or hustler, they’re all out for that paper
When that’s the topic, cold or hot, they gon’ move through
Devoted and they’re silent to the rules of the [?]
Focused on the footrace ‘til the end of the week
So the herbs could get sparked in the park in the dark
The rock is what we’re after, trying to get over
Crossing over the water, [?] is pouring on us
Confusion is organized, always stressing us
Police are getting popped—now who’s protect us?
[?] I’ma turn into a rebel
Taking up arms against agents of the Devil ‘cause I...

[Hook: Sample from [?] - “[?]” with Background Vocals by Iomos Marad and L.I.F.E. Long] (x4)
I was born in the slums of trouble
Watching my feet

[Verse 2: L.I.F.E. Long]
Ayyo
Bullets travel after the gun applauds
That’s the hood response to the rival forces, as
These streets red-hot, ran by Satan’s informants
The youth robotic to negativity, Decepticon Trans-
-formers. Streets’ temperature past Celsius
Every day, getting warmer from Chicago to NY
Cats increasing the murder rate, plus it’s over-
-crowded on that bus headed upstate. Nowadays
Cats lying to keep fit, pushing weight. Conscious-
-ness has no existence to kids—they can’t relate. On this
Bus, bodies drop, blocks covered in yellow
Tape. Usually, the routine: the hood kills for green
Although flesh, you can’t recycle, the streets are mean
Hyenas and wolves [?]. Look out
For vultures plotting on your dismay. Living inside
A cold world, where the color’s a tinted gray. Damn
It’s sad how son was around yesterday. Now he’s
Gone today. I couldn’t believe that, man

[Hook: Sample from [?] - “[?]” with Background Vocals by John Robinson] (x2)
I was born in the slums of trouble
Yeah, watching my feet

[Verse 3: John Robinson]
South Bronx [?]. Far Rock? Raised that
A Jers cat been around the world. NY? I praise that
Spray stacks of boundless insight through windpipes
Product of environments. Greener grass was iron, and
Early, watching my feet, concrete jungle steps
Always taught: never give up and keep my mind intact
The slums were no place for a king, so I raised
Myself mentally, god, and did my thing. Now we
Sing songs of greatness in places so far away
Liggy Long, A.L.L.I.E.S. bread—we do this all day
Chi-Town-repping Marad. Of course I know the squad
Deep-rooted in the movement. Easy, live and speak music
Fluent, the first language born out of pain and anguish
Amaze is the way he grips steel—Lord, it’s stainless
Ghetto roots, mellow youth broken out of cages
Was born out of slums and trouble like motion favorites
It raised us