[Intro: spoken, low, filtered soul loop, truck engine idling] Bed-Stuy. Youngest of seven. David Grain. Pops on the mail by day, on the truck after hours. Baby boy rode up front. [Verse 1: drums drop] Seven kids deep, baby boy got the passenger side, Pops sorted mail all day, then he worked a second ride, Package drops through Manhattan, sitting shotgun with his pops, Carried toasters into banks, the Grain kid learned the stops, Kid kept count of every door and who was paying at the end, Pops took every opening the market would extend, Thirty years that side business stayed alive, Grandma held the keys to buildings on the Stuy, Rent due on the first, knew her leverage, never shy, Two teachers in the family, one had the route, one had the rent, Thirteen, crossed the water to the island where his parents went, Played ball through college, football pads, rugby, ran track, Business school up north, then the city pulled him back, Eighty-nine, first job, first desk, one year and moved along, High-yield desk in Midtown, learning where the money's from, Suit on, head down. No theme yet. Not yet. [Hook: soul vocal chop under the count] Ride shotgun. Count the stops. Learn the route. Watch who ordered, who delivered, who got paid out. Ride shotgun on somebody else's dime, Learn it on their mileage, learn it on their time. Ride shotgun till you hold all three: Theme. Credibility. Capital. Then the keys. [Verse 2] Then a prospectus hit the desk, a tower company in print, One steel pole in the sky and every carrier pays rent, Raise one pole, lease the steel to two, three, four teams, Every tenant past the first is mostly margin on the beam, They tell it like he saw it written in the sky, He found it in a filing, on the clock, a working guy, Now he had a theme, so he pitched the phone company, Deal died when they spun the wireless off, never funded, Could have let it die right there, desk guy with a dream, He went inside instead, joined the operating team, Cable in the Northeast, learning how the pipes run, Banker learning what it takes to keep the lights on, That's the second key and you can't wire it in, Credibility is time, it's the scars under the skin, Same month they sold the cable side, the phone rang, Old client on the line with a broken tower thing. [Hook] Ride shotgun. Count the stops. Learn the route. Watch who ordered, who delivered, who got paid out. Ride shotgun on somebody else's dime, Learn it on their mileage, learn it on their time. Ride shotgun till you hold all three: Theme. Credibility. Capital. Then the keys. [Verse 3] Tower firm in bankruptcy, money owed and never back, Took the president's chair and rebuilt it, stack by stack, Showed up holding two thousand sites, Left it past eleven thousand, fifty states, lit at night, Took it public, new name up on the board, Then the owners sold it off and he was out the door, Count what he carried out that building. Count it slow. Theme off a filing. Credibility off the turnaround. Capital off the sale. Eighteen years, first desk to now. Two thousand seven, Grain up on the door. Now he's driving. One lane only, fiber, spectrum, towers, nothing else beside it, Funds hold the steel and the airwaves every carrier requires, Long leases on the other side, the checks come down the wires, Next time your phone got bars, think about who holds the land, Grandma on the first of the month, same move on a higher stand, The kid who rode up front now got the whole route in his hand. [Bridge: drums out, loop only, spoken] Say it straight. That first desk don't hire off the block. The tower call came from a client he already had. The airwaves cost a fortune and a seat with the regulators. Eighteen years is a long time in the passenger seat. So start the count now. Your shift. Your block. Your uncle's truck. Name the theme. Stack the proof. Stack the paper. [Final Hook: full drums, vocal chop doubled] Ride shotgun. Count the stops. Learn the route. Watch who ordered, who delivered, who got paid out. Ride shotgun on somebody else's dime, Learn it on their mileage, learn it on their time. Ride shotgun till you hold all three: Theme. Credibility. Capital. Then the keys. [Outro: loop filters down, engine idling] Bed-Stuy. David Grain. Front seat. Theme. Credibility. Capital. Keys in your hand. Drive. [End]
