I'm wide awake in the concrete jungle.
Them skyscrapers make my thoughts feel small, though.
But they cannot drown out my sound.
Every block I walk I hear the thump of the bongos.
My songs could be called psalms. I drop bombs with the voice of God.
Y'all feel the rumble. I call out to the strong at heart to come and march along.
Follow through the darkness, get them torches lit pronto.
We're gon make it through the slime, bring some peace to they minds,
Even if we just preach to the choir. I'ma heed the call of the wild.
I won't be a doll with a porcelain smile.
Yeah, I preach the prophecy standing out on the street-corner,
looking like a bum asking drunk brothers why they're brawling.
I honor God, Allah, Jah, Yahweh, Adonai, Marijuana, Tao,
they're gon' lead me to the promised gardens.
I wanna start raw, build it up and get stronger.
When I train I pretend I'm in the mountains alone.
I ask what's wrong with me but it's not my fault.
Cause I was raised to call this concrete jungle home.

CHORUS:
Look at all the little lights. It's such a pretty sight.
I got love for this small town. I'm caught up with this city life.

I don't wanna stop all our settlements. I don't wanna abolish all development.
I'm talking bout our problem with the process of production;
how we get our food and our water – dig it:
we let them rural farmers handle all the cows and chickens,
while we stay chilling in our houses and apartments kicking it.
We call 'em dirt- and soil-combers, snickering.
We flew that food in from the earth's four corners, didn't we?
Let's plan a picnic on the palisade. You tell us all about your town and
how it got its name, and how its men are brave, and how its gutters aimed
to carry y'all garbage to the backyard of someone strange.
We all got the same deep trouble, but at least we got each other.
We were born in this struggle. Raised in this rubble.
I'm afraid there's no escape from the concrete jungle.

(CHORUS)