Back to the regular scheduled programming...

so I'm walking thru the old hood right, you know chilling smoking chopping it up with the hoes. Minding my biz fareal... And the friggin old patrolman, ( he's a narcotics dick now ) decides he wanted to hold a conversation with the "youth". Now I'm creeping on 30 my lil homies is in they 20's with families and shit... and my first question is did he recognize us as the old menaces to the neighborhood? or is he scared to walk up on the real youngins...? u know them lil suuwuu brattt dat dat niggas that hang up da hill these days? I'm offended. I hide from birthdays. figuring if i don't acknowledge the day at all I wont age... ( yes I know I'm sad ) and for once I'm ashamed to be known as the "youth". idk how to even process my rage. then my other lil homie still grinding, going to jail, starting over, I feel old, but don't wanna be young either... lived fast and wanna slow down but don't know how. momentum carrying me way further than anyof my original swagger. This new healthy fear of prison is a whole nother blog but...
meanwhile haven't been to prison in 5 years which is equivalent to Rick James having like 20 years clean. or or diddy going a decade without a remix...
SIGH...
ARGH...
SIGH...
keep walking tho,
i just started.