My High, My Low

What it's about

Everybody got a high. Everybody got a low. Don't judge me for my high if you couldn't hold my low.

My mum's got a rosary, my bredrin's got a rizla. Same shaking hands, same asking for a little. My uncle found God and my cousin found the gym, same withdrawal, just a different medicine. Church, gym or the green, everybody's got a temple.

And then it turns. They think a high's a substance. Mine's a school run. Full fridge, quiet house, everybody's phone on. My high is her laughing at something that ain't funny, or the other one asleep before I turn the light off.

I give it and I never say it. Charge it to the universe.

The move

Left fist on your chest. It never moves. Right fist up on my high. Stop it dead, hold it. On my low, let the arm go slack and fall to your hip.

Don't dance it. Drop it.