Verse 1: (The future)
I can tell without him saying a word,
depravity of the world made him feel deterred,
at first that sort of thing got his emotions stirred,
now he's too defeated to care or even turn,
his head or think twice when he sees what's going on,
instead he just accepts that it's all gone wrong,
as a result his ambitions and desires have dwindled,
he feels taken advantage of, he feels swindled,
now he just exists as he picks up his tools,
a long life to reflect on will do that to you,
he tells tales from his past some horrific as hell,
with a smile and a laugh after every detail,
the people who have gathered are too young to know better,
but I'm aged beyond my years so I know he's being clever,
these stories were once real, a source of much pain,
yet they sound like anecdotes by the way they're explained,
he's given up hope, lost respect for change,
the feelings associated with those events have been estranged,
but somehwere inside I suspect those feelings exist,
he just has too many battle scars for him to raise his fists
Verse 2: (The past)
Now he's a young fly mawfucka straight out the dungeon,
lookin' fresh as hell and the girls they be wonderin',
what's the dude's deal he doesn't have much to say?
No girl on his arm what's the matter, he gay?
NAH
He's just doin' his own thing,
the girls all calling but he's lettin' the phone ring,
got some big plans and he's full of ideas,
and he isn't bogged down by the things that he hears,
a bright future ahead of him,
straight A's he be getting 'em,
If they lazy get rid of 'em,
watch him sway like a pendulum,
from,
idea to idea,
always keeps a notebook by his side, right near
he fights fair,
studying philosophy,
Aristotle, Plato, Descarte and some Socrates,
Yeah.
Never fuckin' with them bygones,
keeps his mind strong and he's gonna be an icon,
well, well that's what he thinks now,
that shit's gonna change when he starts to think loud,
gettin' turned down on the left and the right,
he sought his own spot but they're testing his might,
stopped at roadblocks getting stressed and he might,
just pop his whole top if he lets into spite,
he's gettin' more jazzed up than New Orleans,
his brain's got jet lag and he's getting a disease,
more drags than a queen, got a stash full of green,
he'll bash in your spleen just for asking his name,
please,
don't question his methods,
no UCLA but he'll teach you a lesson, I'm guessin',
he'll die a young death,
tobacco and alcohol scent rests on his breath,
legal ways, to escape the pain,
but illegal's fine too.
One day he'll examine his ways,
when it's well past due
don't give him your opinion, he didn't ask you,
he'll have to learn on his own,
and damn that's true
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