[Verse 1: Old-head male MC, unhurried] Back table by the jukebox, light hanging low and green Forty years of chalk dust in the felt and in my jeans Young boy walks in Thursday with a roll as fat as his mouth Gold chain, fresh kicks, telling everybody what he's about Says, old man, you wanna play a little, twenty for a rack I said sure, son, take it easy on me, I got a bad back Let him win the first one, let him win the second too Missed a shot I make asleep and let him think it's something new [Hook: Old-head male MC, full force] I been breaking since before you were born Chalk on my hands like it's part of the form You took my twenties, I let you get warm Now rack 'em up, youngster, and wait for the storm [Verse 2: Old-head male MC, sly but steady] Six weeks running, every Thursday he come back Bragging to his boys about the old fool by the rack Took me for a hundred, took me for a couple more Laughing when I scratched and had to shuffle round the floor Every game I lost I watched the way he held his bridge Watched him lean too heavy when the money got too big Watched him want it, watched him need it, watched him start to count That's the day a hustler find out what he really about [Bridge: Old-head male MC, called shots, a low bass note lands each one] Practice rack, son, watch Two ball, corner Five ball, side Nine off the rail and the seven slides Twelve in the middle and the six by the door I ain't even shooting, I'm just telling you the score [Verse 3: Old-head male MC, slow and cold] Seventh Thursday, boy walks in and slaps a thousand on the wood Says let's make it worth it, pops, I know you're feeling good Whole hall gets quiet, even Tony turns the music down I said rack it tight, young man, and let me have the break this round Chalked it twice, I leaned down low, I didn't even blink Cue ball hit the head ball and the room could hear me think Balls went everywhere like pigeons, eight went rolling slow Dropped it in the corner pocket, took the money, wished him well [Final Hook: Old-head male MC, full force] I been breaking since before you were born Chalk on my hands like it's part of the form You took my twenties, I let you get warm Now rack 'em up, youngster, and wait for the storm [Outro: Old-head male MC] Keep the chain, son, it's a damn shame Pay for the table on your way out [End]
