[Intro] [sub bass alone, no percussion] [Verse 1] [broken kick enters, locked to the sub] I do not shout it. I say it on the beat. The ones who hear it turn before they look. By the time the others get here I am folding up the sheet, and the money is a fist inside my book. [Call] [log drum enters, claps on the offbeat] [voice: male tenor, called, market cadence] Fresh in, still cold, come and take it off my hands. [voice: gang answer, flat, spoken, several people] Off your hands. [Verse 2] [clave enters against the kick] The man beside me has the better price by half. He calls it once and says it twice as loud. I keep the one short line and give them all the same short laugh, and all of you have got a hand up in the crowd. [Call] [shaker enters, sixteenths] [voice: male tenor, called, market cadence] Down to the last box and I am not here long. [voice: gang answer, flat, spoken, several people] Not here long. [Silence] [hard cut mid-bar, no decay, two bars absolute digital silence, no room tone, no reverb, no tape hiss] [Final Call] [whole pattern returns, accents inverted] [voice: male tenor, called, market cadence] Empty crate and nothing on the board to weigh. [voice: gang answer, flat, spoken, several people] Nothing left. [Outro] [sub alone under the last clap] [last note sustain]
