Life is a Traffic Jam 2Pac & Eight Mile Road

[Verse 1: Eight Mile Road]
Land of the Free, and home of the enslaved
Till the concept of time
6 hours, 22 minutes, and 3 seconds, I've been standing in this
County line
By the looks of the Gridlock outside
Its gotta be about 3:39
Everybody rushin' from place to place
The looks on their faces ain't no different from mine
Both of us look like we just worked a 9-5
See, but when I clock out
I'm not looking for stress, but for the kind share
Since I started this county line shift
Huh did I say shift? I mean this sentence
I've heard nothing but sirens outside the door
How much you want to bet there's an ambulance rushin' a shot man
O.D. man, police abused black man to the hospital?
Now what they rushin' for is my interest?
Rushin' through traffic jam to get to emergency room traffic jam, that suppose to be a free clinic
Only to hear if you have or don't have insurance
It ain't nothin' but survival of the fittest
So what they rushin for?
And damn this man at the window is slow
The concept of time has us all fucked, and on top of that
Life ain't nothin' but a traffic jam