MARZ

Lost my job at Mickie D's

For giving away too much food for free

But I couldn't watch another black child go to school

With nothing to eat

Seven of us then took to the streets

Raised by the music, fed by the beat

Seeing how long we could stay out of jail

It's how we,

That's how we'd compete

We never own the streets that we kept defending

The money we got we just end up spending

With nothing to save and not a thing for lending

You're never really happy

Just good at pretending

Everybody in the world wants to be a star

Few got what it takes to get that far

If a rocket ship didn't cost more than a car

A brother might move, might move, might move to MARZ