(Spoken Intro) [Talk box filtered vocal] MiCKLe BaLL in the district. You know what time it is. Eleven-zero. (Verse 1) [Bouncing 808 beat with a smooth synth flute melody] Cruising down the avenue, parked by the court Converting recreation into a bloodsport Got the matte-black shades and the carbon-fiber rod Operating out here like a neighborhood god You talking that talk, but your feet got stuck Thinking your hustle is gonna outrun luck (Pre-Chorus) Pull up to the baseline, check the side-view mirror. The picture of your failure couldn't get much clearer. (Chorus) [Smooth, confident G-Funk hook with layered backing vocals] It ain't arrogance when you're backing it up Taking the hardware and lifting the cup Eleven-zero, yeah we keeping it cold Another routine story to be told (Verse 2) See, the game is a hustle, the court is a block We got the whole municipality locked on lock You brought a soft vibe to a brutal regime Dismantling the core of your amateur team Now bounce to the bench, let the professionals speak We’ve been auditing fools all through the week (Bridge / Build-Up) [Beat strips down to just a heavy 808 kick and synth bass whine] Check the hydraulics. Check the score. Drop it heavy... [Drop: Funky slap bass line locks in with the 808] (Final Chorus) It ain't arrogance when you're backing it up Taking the hardware and lifting the cup Eleven-zero, yeah we keeping it cold Another routine story to be told (Outro) [Synth flute melody slowly fades out over bouncing bass] Neighborhood audited. Keys collected. Nice Game, really
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