[Intro: rooftop wind, wings, a two note whistle, one string hit] [Verse 1] Uncle Nicky moved to Tampa, left me sixty birds and a ladder A coffee can of feed and the only rule that matters Bird comes down inside your flock, it's yours, no cops, no court Sell it back for twenty dollars or you keep it, that's the sport Across the street is Sal, thirty summers on that tar In a lawn chair with a bamboo pole, a whistle and a cigar Got the tightest flock in Brooklyn and a white hen named Princess Every time I let mine up, they come back a couple less Then he's at my door by noon with my birds inside a shoebox Twenty dollars each, kid, and he counts it on the mailbox Says, tell your uncle hi, and he's laughin' down the stairs Three hundred forty dollars for my own fuckin' birds this year [Hook: gang shouts] Finders keepers (keepers!) That's the law up on the roof If it comes down with my flock, then it's mine, and that's the truth Finders keepers (keepers!) Twenty dollars a head Same price you charged me all summer, Sal, but it's your birds instead [Verse 2] So I'm up at five before my shift at the tire shop on Eighty Sixth Bamboo pole with a rag tied on, sixty birds in one tight knot, and none drifts I learned Sal's whistle, two notes, one low and one high Learned his white hen leads, and the whole flock follows her across the sky I don't need his eighty birds, I need one, I need her [Flow switch: double time, hard] Corn in the can, shake it, shake it, every mornin' till they know it Whistle low, whistle high, every mornin' till they own it Ten weeks, sun up, birds down, wipe my hands and go to work Sal is laughin' from his lawn chair, let him laugh, he's gonna learn [Half Hook: gang shouts answer] Finders keepers (keepers!) That's the law up on the roof If it comes down with my flock, then it's mine, and that's the truth [Verse 3] Labor Day, the whole damn block is out, a grill on every stoop Sal sends up his eighty, and I send mine off the roof Two clouds over the avenue, and then the two clouds turn to one A hundred forty birds in a wheel across the sun I shake the can, I blow his notes, the low one, then the high And the white hen tips her wing and brings forty down with mine Sal is screamin' off his ledge in Italian and in Brooklyn I hold up two fingers and a zero, and I let him keep on lookin' [Gruff older male, shouting] You little shit [MC] Twenty a head, Sal. You taught me that [Bridge: strings and wings only] Next mornin' there's a knock on the hatch, and Sal comes up the stairs Two coffees in a cardboard tray and twenties folded square He pays for thirty nine, and he counts it on the tar Then he leaves the white hen sittin' in my coop, says, she knows who you are [Final Hook: full beat, gang shouts] Finders keepers (keepers!) That's the law up on the roof She came down inside my flock, so she's mine, and that's the truth Finders keepers (keepers!) Every feather, every head Two notes, low, then high, and tell your uncle hi, he said [Outro: wings, the two note whistle, strings stop] Low, then high Sixty one, and every one is mine
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