He’s on the dribble again,
Each court-side in their own mind;
Will he dunk, lay up, feign?
This is live, believe me, no rewind.
He has it beyond the arc,
Mamba slides through the melee,
Fouled, he’s at the mark,
You bet it’s a three-point play!
Oh, he slinks round Shaq,
It’s yet another pick-and-roll!
An assist behind his back,
A triple double, a team field-goal!
He’s taken on the big guy,
And ducks under arm and net,
A twist and he lobs it high,
Off the glass and in the bucket.
Up and under one more block,
Death too feels his rival’s dismay;
Never out of time on the clock,
He fades away never to fade away…
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