Ever since he was wee one
He played the silver ball
From Miami up to Boston
He must have played 'em all

Some say he was a dweeb in school, A dufus, or a fool. But according to yo momma - Long hair and jorts are cool.

Hanging at the mall with frens Or chilling at arcades.
His parents must have smoked some dope
And a degen they then made.

This degen was a prodigy, A wizard or a dork. Even at an early age he used
A FL1PP3R as a fork.

He’ll undercut your floors, Yet beg you to whitelist, He’ll spray your bags with FUD,
Deserving of the fists.

Whether flicking orbs or flipping balls
Whilst grasping with his wrists. It's clear his style and talent screams Nostalgia with a twist.

His supple fingers work their magic,
Gripping the machine, Legend says he renders with his feet,
Some even say they’re clean.

“All that and a bag of chips,” they’d yell,
While posers yelled “cool beans”…
The feelings felt by those who watched, Were clearly those with means.

So cowabunga he’s got skillz, The essence of the best. PaperHanders take chill pills, Whilst holders do the rest.

To this Magic Wizard, I have just one thing left to say - Rendering falling balls like a plastic surgeon,
There’s no denying facts. These parting words are perfect…

“Smooth moves, ex-lax”