The Crossover

Josh Bell

is my name.

But Filthy McNasty is my claim to fame.

Folks call me that

’cause my game’s acclaimed,

so downright dirty, it’ll put you to shame.

My hair is long, my height’s tall.

See, I’m the next Kevin Durant,

LeBron, and Chris Paul.

Remember the greats,

my dad likes to gloat:

I balled with Magic and the Goat.

But tricks are for kids, I reply.

Don’t need your pets

my game’s so

fly.

Mom says,

Your dad’s old school,

like an ol’ Chevette.

You’re fresh and new,

like a red Corvette.

Your game so sweet, it’s a crêpes suzette.

Each time you play

it’s ALLLLLLLLLLLLLLL net.

If anyone else called me

fresh and sweet,

I’d burn mad as a flame.

But I know she’s only talking about my game.

See, when I play ball,

I’m on fire.

When I shoot,

I inspire.

The hoop’s for sale,

and I’m the buyer.