[Verse 1: Bebop jazz-rap male MC, behind the beat on the riding cymbal] I was a fake-book lover with the pages all creased Had a move for the bar and a move for the feast Played every girl like a chart on a stand Count it off, take a chorus, shake her mama's hand Got a line for the cab and a line for the door Got a line for the mornin' when she's lookin' for more Same old changes, little two-five-one Little turnaround, tag, and the set is done Then you walked into the club on a Tuesday, late Green coat, no smile, and you threw off my eight So I went for the book like a man in a flood And there wasn't a page for you, not a damn one, bud [Hook: Bebop jazz-rap male MC] Every other girl I played straight out the fake book Same three changes and the same slick look But you, I couldn't chart you, so I had to stay near And I learned you, baby, I learned you by ear [Verse 2: Bebop jazz-rap male MC, the walking bass under every word] Learned you sing flat in the shower on purpose Say the low notes keep the high ones honest Learned the second stair creaks when you're comin' home mad Learned you hum when you're happy and you drum when you're sad Learned you laugh in B-flat and you sneeze in D Learned your bracelet goes clink when you're reachin' for me Learned your "fine" got a flatted fifth hid in the middle So it's never really fine, and it's never a riddle No chart and no count, just the room and the tone Every night I transcribe you by the light of the phone Took me two whole years to hear what you meant by "okay" And I still ain't got it all, and I ain't goin' away [Hook: Bebop jazz-rap male MC] Every other girl I played straight out the fake book Same three changes and the same slick look But you, I couldn't chart you, so I had to stay near And I learned you, baby, I learned you by ear [Trading Fours: Bebop jazz-rap male MC trades four bars with the vibraphone, the vibes answer with her melody] Movin' day on Halsey and the boxes stacked high Found the fake book at the bottom and I looked it in the eye Every standard I faked, every move that I stole Every girl that I read off a page like a role Dropped it in the dumpster by the cracked cymbal stand Walked back up the stairs with a box in my hand Little box, nothin' fancy, just a ring and a bow And I didn't have a line, and I let you know Said, "I ain't got a book, I ain't got a plan I just know how you breathe and I know where you stand" If I miss a change, let the whole band hear it wrong I would rather learn you slow than fake you all along [Hook: Bebop jazz-rap male MC, last time, the vibraphone doubling the last line] Every other girl I played straight out the fake book Same three changes and the same slick look But you, I couldn't chart you, so I had to stay near And I learned you, baby, I learned you by ear [End]
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