A mantra of moves visualized to a tee my handles is me
On the baseline, the rock in my right hand
Scooped forth in a sly spinning bounce from the back
But mix it up from the first step: my left foot attacks,
Swings across, slices an angle in my pivot, i'm with it
Facing away from the foul line i crouch and get mine, let
Long fingers sweep a dribble low behind my feet
I don't mind if he reach, that ball's mine i can tease
Then snap it back across my front, chest-high
In a quick, tight revolution not televised
Park prime time be gone in a flash so get wise
I'm at the rim just like that, finish nice, got that
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