Once upon a trey you dreamed twos away
Threw the bums short treys when time ran away, didn't you?
People call say 'no more Bad Ball, you're bound to stall'
You thought they were all lovin' you
You used to laugh about
Everybody that was blockin' out
Now you don't talk so loud
Now you don't seem so proud
About C5 making you have to scrounge your next three
How does it feel, how does it feel?
To be without 20 3-ptas
Like a complete High-Low, like an Iba stone
Ahh you've gone to the dribble drive schools, alright Miss Calamari
But you know you only used to get deuced in it
Nobody's ever taught you how to live down in the paint
And now you're gonna have to get used to it
You say you never compromise
With the short trey tramp, but now you realize
He's not selling any alibis
As you stare into the 16 attempts in his eyes
And say do you want to make a three?
How does it feel, how does it feel?
To be on your own, without 20 3-ptas
Just a complete High-Low, like a Iba stone
Ah you never turned around to see the back downs
By post offenders and the drivers when they all did tricks for you
You never understood that it ain't no good
You shouldn't let other players set your picks for you
You used to pass third side for your Bill Self
But you carried on your shoulder a Steph Curry elf
Ain't it hard when you discovered that
Steph really wasn't where it's at
After Self took from you every three he could steal
How does it feel, how does it feel?
To have on your own, with no quick trigger home
Like a Carolina high-low, like an Iba stone
Ahh trifectates on a steeple and all the quick trigger people
They're all drinking, thinking that the trey game is made
Exchanging all precious gifts
But you better take your trinity stripe, you better pawn it babe
You used to be so amused
At Napoleon in twos and the passing that he used
Go to him he calls you, you can't refuse
When you ain't got nothing, you got nothing to lose
You're invisible now, you've got no trinities to conceal
How does it feel, ah how does it feel?
To be on your own, with no direction home
Like a Carolina High-Low, like an Iba stone
(Note: Thanks and apologies to Bob Dylan)
:-)