Court Chronicles

Lace up the high-tops,

leather on the asphalt Hardwood dreams that we built from a block

fault Double clutch, hangtime,

floating on the baseline Sweat on the concrete,

pushing past the daytime No time to look back,

we running on the break now Passing to the corner,

watch the defense fall down

If you only knew the games we used to play (used to

play)

How the crowd would roar as we ran

away

Now the court is quiet,

the air is cold and clear

But the magic of that blacktop is still ringing here (ooh-ooh-ooh)

Nothing but net, feel the nylon snap tight Underneath the buzz of

the neighborhood streetlights Broadcasting live from the park to the whole globe

Windbreaker jackets and the classic gold strobe Yeah,

we kept it moving,

style was the signature Running every court,

and we painting our picture

Just another buzzer-beater in the wind... (mmm-mmm)