It’s all love when the sun hit the vinyl,
bassline crawl through the screen door,
grandma’s hands clap gospel,
funk floatin’ like incense over linoleum.
We broke, but the groove rich—
nickel bags and moon-walk miracles,
Mary hum healing in the hook,
George’s glitter Afro shooting comets at the cops.
JT slide in on a falsetto rainbow,
.Paak splash clave on the curb—
every cracked sidewalk become a dancefloor,
every hoodie a halo.
It’s all love when the block don’t blink,
just bounce.