The boy stood in the burning slum
Better times had [bad word] Fate lay in the hands that clap
The muscles that move and the power that raps

He went up on money street
Waving and popping to the beat
Off his wits and on his feet
He worked a coin from the cold concrete

Movers and [bad word] on
You got what it takes to make it
Movers and [bad word] on
Even if you have to fake it

Where the highway meets the lights
With a red bandanna, rapid wipes
He shines glass and he cleans chrome
He'll accept what he gets thrown

This man earns 'cos it's understood
Times are bad and he's makin' good
Down on him but he's got it beat
He's working coin from the cold concrete

Movers and [bad word] on
You got what it takes to make it
Movers and [bad word] on
Even if you have to fake it

And when I see you down and I say
That ain't no way through, that ain't no way through

Movers and [bad word] on
You got what it takes to make it
Movers and [bad word] on
Even if you have to fake it

Way back in some city heat
When a friend was anybody with food to eat
It was lousy life with a leaking roof
We got up to find that [bad word] 
Make a [bad word] from a garbage can
Allow your tongue to be a man
When the beat propels you off your seat
You got it made in the cold concrete

Movers and [bad word] on
You got what it takes to make it
Movers and [bad word] on
Even if you have to fake it

Movers and [bad word] on
You got what it takes to make it
Movers and [bad word] on
Even if you have to fake it [bad word] on