Masquerade Ball

Frontin' in the Vernacular

Don't wanna sound full of myself or rude

He walks over gallantly, takes her hand and gently pulls her across the glossy parquet

But you ain't looking at no other dudes ‘cause you love me

He steals a glance to his right, pulling her along, a preview of his intentions

So you think about a chance

And so she obliges with a nod, curious at the chance occurrence.

You find yourself trying to do my dance

As he takes the lead, she follows each of his steps, a conversation of tapping.

Maybe cause you love me

“What’s he up to?” she wonders.

So then we tried

She takes to air, throwing herself spiritedly into an uncertain dance, where only he knows is headed.

Ain't feeling this love now because you weren't used to how fast we touched

And already her heart is racing. She can’t understand it; it’s frightening, alluring, confusing, but it draws her.

Then we locked eyes - and I knew I was in there

And he stares intently into her eyes, and her heart stops.

And I was gon' tear ya ass up

A smirk begins to form on his profile. Already, he knows she’s uneasy.

I know that I'm carrying on, nevermind if I'm showing off

And he pulls her into a pirouette, and she is lost in the fluid, rapid chain of events.

I was just frontin’

Each and every move she knows by heart. She’s dance this dance, after all, since childhood.

I'm ready to bet it all, unless you don't care at all

And yet each step and turn he makes seems to surprise her.

But you know I want ya.

And despite it all, there’s a nurturing quality in his touch; a gentleness in the the way he slides his fingertips from her elbow to her palm.

Trying to be the best girlfriend you could be

And it is his confidence with each movement, that eases her along.

But still you sneak and look at me, and girl I love it

For the first time, she returns a smile; confused but blissful. And he returns that same arrogant smirk. “Of all the nerve,” she thinks.

Then you give your other girl a shove

Still, she beams with pride, trying to maintain what little composure she has left, if only for the crowd.

Tell her you gon' palm her ass like it was

She claps his hand firmly; her offensive, lest he think she has surrendered already.

And she's gon love it.

And her friends back at the table watch intently, arms crossed and with a frown slowly growing on each of their tepid faces.

So then we tried - ain't feeling this love now

And he ups the tempo, challenging her concentration.

Because you weren't used to how fast we touched

She is already growing weary, each step, pricked by thorns of exhaustion/

Then we locked eyes - and I knew I was in there

But, she had to continue. To waver now is unthinkable.

And I was gon' tear ya ass up

And he clasps her hand in return, pulling her closer, perhaps for the kill.