Escuchame,

listen,

school’s in session,

sit down and take notes

as I begin the lesson.

Number one —

don’t reach,

you reach,

I’ll teach

and show you how sweet

I am with the peach.

Mira Mira

my feet

on the concrete,

as I swerve and spin

with my b-ball drumbeat,

pound

pound-pound

pound-pounding the ball

with hypnotic rhythm

bouncing off walls.

Running and gunning

and crossing you too,

I stutter-step and score

as you learn lesson two:

first you see the ball

then you only see my shoe

then you only feel the breeze

as I blow right past you.

Where you at,

what happened,

you see what I did?

Mira Mira my skills,

you ain’t ready for me, Kid!