[Verse 1: Baltimore club male MC, deep East Baltimore accent over chopped breakbeat drums and booming kick] Saturday mornin' on the block, I got a bucket and a brush Every rowhouse got white marble steps, and every step's a rush Miss Dot pays a dollar a step, Miss Lorraine'll pay you two Been warshin' steps since I was nine, hon, it's the thing I do Best steps in Bawlmer on this block, you could eat your breakfast there But the end house got plywood on the door and nothin' on the stair Ain't nobody slept in there since before the corner store Still its steps are always white, hon, white as teeth, and maybe more No salt, no dust, no gum, no cigarette, no city grime Somebody beats me to it, hon, and beats me every time [Verse 2: Baltimore MC, sharper, the breakbeat chopping harder under him] Then one Saturday there's money stickin' out the mail slot, hon A twenty from the old days, little face, the green near gone Pencil on the back of it, one word, it just says SCRUB So I scrubbed it, 'cause a twenty is a twenty in this club Next week, same thing, another twenty, that one word Asked Miss Dot about it and she acted like she never heard Pulled her curtain shut and said "Baby, take the money, hon But don't you ever sit around to see who's walkin' on" Then the water in my bucket started comin' up rust red Red down at the sidewalk, and it's pinker at the top instead [Hook: Baltimore club MC, low and steady over the booming kick and the breakbeat] Scrub the steps, hon, scrub 'em white Somebody walks 'em up every night Twenty in the mail slot, bucket by the door Don't ask where the feet go, just warsh 'em like before [Verse 3: Baltimore MC, colder, every word on the kick, then the listener turn on the last four bars] So I waited on Miss Dot's stoop, three a.m., the block asleep Heard shoes along the sidewalk, heard 'em climbin' all six steps A man, a girl, a deacon in his hat, all walkin' slow The plywood opened like a mouth, and in they went, and down they go Nobody ever came back out, just footprints, red and wet Up all six steps of marble, every step I warshed, I bet That's when I got it, hon, the twenty and the word I ain't the one who's lucky, I'm the one who cleans what occurred Six steps, every Saturday, they pay me and the prints are clear I'm the reason no one on this block knows anybody's here So now you know the house, hon, and you know the job I do And I hear you on the sidewalk, and the steps are white for you [Hook: Baltimore club MC, the drums back in full, low and steady] Scrub the steps, hon, scrub 'em white Somebody walks 'em up every night Twenty in the mail slot, bucket by the door Don't ask where the feet go, just warsh 'em like before [End]
