[Intro: parade drums far off, a crowd roar swells] Look up [Hook: cocky male lead, solo, light on his feet] Ticker tape fallin', and the whole city lookin' up Everybody lookin' up, so I'm lookin' down Loudest day in fifty-two years, and I'm the quietest man in town [Verse 1: nimble, grinning, live funk drums] Mama said, "Keep your hands where the Lord can see 'em, son" But the Lord's at the parade, wavin' at the float like everyone Fifty-two years since this town won a thing, and the whole town's here Grown men cryin' in their jerseys, babies on the shoulders, beer Uncle Pin taught me on the Number Six bus, nine years old "Takin' is a trade. Puttin' it back without a flinch? That's gold" Bump on the left, "'Scuse me, boss," pat on the right, that's the dip Two fingers like chopsticks, it's a whisper, not a grip [Flow switch: double-time, every lift lands on the snare] Brown leather, black leather, gold clip, gone Watch off a wrist while the band plays the fight song Purse open wide as a barn in July, I'm a swallow, I'm in and I'm out Everybody screamin' the name of the team, and I'm the one thing they ain't screamin' about [Hook: solo] Ticker tape fallin', and the whole city lookin' up Everybody lookin' up, so I'm lookin' down Loudest day in fifty-two years, and I'm the quietest man in town [Verse 2: smoother, he slows down to watch] Old man by the barricade, jersey older than my mother Faded number on the back, cryin' like he lost a brother That's a no. Never him. Got a code, and it's carved in stone Never the ones who waited. Never kids. Never take a phone Suit right next to him, money clip as fat as a deli sandwich Yellin' at his headset, "Sell it," rich off somebody's damage [Flow switch: half-time, the reverse dip in slow motion] Lift from the suit on the downbeat. Turn on the crash Fold two hundreds thin as a prayer and slide 'em in the old man's back Pocket? Felt nothin'. Still cryin'. Still wavin' at the float That's art, Uncle Pin. That's the one I wrote [Beat Switch: the trophy bus rolls by, drums drop to crowd roar and bass, then slam back] Bus rolls by with the trophy, and two hundred thousand jump Loudest second in the city's life, and the easiest bump [Verse 3: double-time, cocky, then caught] Little dude in a jersey down to his knees bumps me, "Sorry, mister" Freckles, missin' tooth, gone in the crowd like a whisper Reached for my roll by the porta-johns, and my pocket's just air Patted every pocket twice, and my whole damn day ain't there Front pocket got somethin', though, crinkly, shiny, light Strip of ticker tape. Crayon. Two words: "LOOK DOWN." Aight Laughed so hard a cop came over, asked me if I was okay Said, "Officer, I'm great. Somebody put somethin' back today" [Final Hook: cocky, laughing on the last line] Ticker tape fallin', and the whole city lookin' up Everybody lookin' up, and I was lookin' down Loudest day in fifty-two years, and I'm the second-quietest man in town [Outro: the parade brass swells, the crowd roar fades out]
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