In the young man's years, his worst fears was tears, the curse steers our birth, the first thirst we clear, with our cheers, on this Earth, I still search my soul, the value in earning dollars was louder without its hold, what I'm told is this gold was cold, froze in rocks, start to answer when I knock, though my pockets don't stock the glock, clocks tick then they tock, my **** flocks maturity, mental, still no potential, my eyes cries its purity, can you be my security, for this obscurity brewing then gets to chewing my shoes, the clues new in me, moving, I must get grooving for smoothing the tools rules will see, hardest, still not the smartest, the harshest is sparks in jewelry, wishing the court contempts to resent the attempt, proving me guilty, I'm not yet filthy, but tilt me and see my wildebeest.