Martin McFriend

All I need is a mic and beat
Or maybe not
I’ll bring shit that’s smoking hot
And you can tweet
Socialize that shit, announce the message
Like deluxe juice-a-matic, always, the freshest
Marty, wishin he was the big dog, big ballin
Hollerin at all my sycophantic darlins,
These people just wanna hear stories and dreams
About how whiteboys went from footjoys to fat ass Nikes
Raised to perform,
Sworn, these vows
Entertain yall folks,
Curiosity aroused
Working lyrics for the money
Knockin 9 to 5 shifts
Minnesota to south Texas
Clocking silly business trips
Just to hit that rent payment, and shake a couple asses
Bring that audience baby, I rope a dope em like Cassius
And get my dash on, yeah, back to my cubicle
Write some poetry and blog that shit, uhh, beautiful
That’s all I really got, its just respeck for the game
Approach it like a technician, fuck the power, fuck the fame
Just a dude with some time on his hands, in the stands
No plans and no fans, just some rough jams, and BAM
Simply crush it and get my ass out
Back to the jetta,
No cush position, no a/c, no pleasure
But I got some 12s in the back blowin folks up at stop lights
See me on the street, recognize, I’m out, good night