MARZ

Lost my job at Mickey D's

For giving away to 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 is how we

That's how we'd compete

We never owned the streets that we kept defending

So the money we got we'd just end up spending

Nothing to save and not a thing for lending

You're never really happy

You're never really happy, just really 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