Billie told Rolling Stone

I had moved out of my house in the suburbs to West Oakland, into a warehouse that was rat-infested and in a really fucked-up neighborhood, with a lot of crazy punks and friends. I was paying $50 a month for rent, which was great, because, being in a band, you got paid a couple hundred bucks here and there — so it was easy to pay for rent, eat Top Ramen, and buy weed.

It was an eye-opening experience. Suddenly, I was on my own, smack out in one of the gnarliest neighborhoods in Oakland. You look around and you see cracked streets and broken homes and ghetto neighborhoods, and you’re in the middle of it. You’re scared, thinking, “How do I get out of here?” Then suddenly it starts to feel like home. There is a sort of empathy that you have for your surroundings when you’re around junkies and homelessness and gang warfare. “A gunshot rings out at the station/Another urchin snaps and left dead on his own” — I was describing exactly what my surroundings were. There’s not a part of that song that isn’t true. It’s a great live song to crank into. I think the musicality of the [bridge] is a foreshadowing of what things were to come for us in the future, whether we knew it or not.