Sidewalk Sugar High

Snap of the fingers

Scuff of the shoes

Loose change in my pocket

Got a whole lot to prove

Slide through, sidewalk sugar high

Skate tongue, slick talk, watch me glide

Curbside preacher with a crooked tie

Preaching that groove you can’t deny

Coffee in a paper cup, burnt sip

Bus stop crowd on the head-nod trip

Old man shuffles with a shoulder dip

He feel that kick, that swing, that grip

Gimme that jazz, that funk, that rap, that hop

All in a bag that pop, don’t stop

Mix that smooth with the grit on top

We make the block talk back when the beat drop

Jazz, that funk, that rap, that hop

All in a bag that pop, don’t stop

Head to the sky, both feet on the block

We make the block talk back when the beat drop (hey)

Loose change rhythm in my faded jeans

Rhodes keys drip like tangerine

Horn line cutting through the mezzanine

Kids on the corner do a new routine

Mama on the balcony, folding clothes

Laugh lines deep, yeah, the whole hood knows

When that groove hit hard like a friendly ghost

It lift you up high, then it hold you close

Hands up once for the baseline

Twice for the rhyme in the late night

Thrice for the days we were flat-lined

Now the whole damn street in the same light

[whispered vocals] Let it ride, let it ride

[low vocal register] From the curb to the sky