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>Beanpole on the playground, size six Chuck Taylors
>Little girls and basketball, young'uns be players
>Talking mess like kids do, "Yo mama's so fat"
>Circle starts forming, he ain't gonna take that
>Small fist through small teeth, fractures enamel
>Lip swells up quick plus spit make him look camel-esque
>Got him some get back, elbow to left eye
>Scrap till they pulled apart, no tears, Gs don't cry
>Pops didn't, never seen it, just sucked teeth and quick walk, come
>Back after click-clack sound grab keys and hit the block
>Knuckle up, never scared, keep names out strangers' mouths
>Replace it with blood, make that fool one with the ground
>Scraped knees, ripped clothes, school nurse, parent's called
>He remembers all that, sips dark liquor from highball
>Glass, khakis and house shoes pork pie hat ace, deuce
>Gold thin-rimmed bifocals, eyes in today's news