[Verse 1: Slam-poet rap male MC, war-drum toms under every stress] Tuesday, seven-oh-five, city hall, third floor Folding chairs, a sign-up sheet taped crooked on the door They're voting on the rec center, the brick one on Locust Street Where I learned to shoot a jumper and to land on both my feet Where Miss Della ran the front desk with a whistle and a stare Where the gym leaked over court two and we played around it there Now they want a parking deck where the free-throw lane was drawn Seven floors of poured concrete, and the summer league is gone So I signed up number fourteen and I sat and watched the clock With a folder full of paper and my laces double-knot [Hook: Slam-poet rap male MC, toms and rimshot] You gave me two minutes, I brought your words Printed on the flyer that you dropped at every curb Every promise that you made when you needed our vote I'm just reading it back, every line that you wrote [Verse 2: Slam-poet rap male MC, clipped, bass drone] Page one, Councilman Avery, the mailer from your race "A gym in every neighborhood," in letters by your face Page two, Councilwoman Hale, the postcard with the kids "I will fight for every rec room," well, look at what you did Page three, Mister Chairman, from the steps on Locust Street "This gym is our future," with the cameras at your feet Now the clock says thirty seconds and the gavel starts to fall And I'm only on page four, there's eleven in here, y'all Then the clock is reading zero and the chairman says, "That's time" And the sound man kills my microphone in the middle of a line [Bridge: Slam-poet rap male MC, off-mic roar, the toms pull back to one hit per bar] So I set the dead mic down and I turn and face the room And I read it with my lungs till it hits the back wall too Page five, page six, you can't gavel a voice Page seven, page eight, now you don't got a choice Miss Della's on her feet with the whistle in her teeth And the local news is rolling from the second row of seats [Hook: Slam-poet rap male MC, toms and rimshot] You gave me two minutes, I brought your words Printed on the flyer that you dropped at every curb Every promise that you made when you needed our vote I'm just reading it back, every line that you wrote [Verse 3: Slam-poet rap male MC, war drums crash back in full] Page nine, page ten, I can see the chairman sweat Every word I'm reading is a word he signed and said Page eleven, the last one, it's the budget line from June Where they set aside the money for a new roof on that room Now the chairman calls a recess and they huddle by the flag And they come back out and table it, and I zip up my bag [Final Hook: Slam-poet rap male MC, war drums] You gave me two minutes, I brought your words Printed on the flyer that you dropped at every curb Every promise that you made when you needed our vote I'm just reading it back, every line that you wrote [Outro: Slam-poet rap male MC, breathing hard] Vote's tabled Gym's open Monday Bring a ball [End]
