Baby cuz I'm not a thug, all day everyday.

The hard part about getting old is the things that you use to love are no longer enjoyable. Everything changes and you have to start worrying about your 401K and health insurance. Pretty depressing. This week I found that to be true. I realized I am no longer a thug. The thug life chose and left me so fast. I realized it when I went to put my Dickie shorts on. I thought, "I should probably my cargo shorts instead." Not a big thing, but still a sign. Later in the day I turned the radio on the local hip-hop station and thought, "What is this noise?" then I put on talk radio. The cherry on top, of my once rebellious time as a thug leaving me, was when I wen to bed and debated on whether or not I should keep using fabric softener. I decided not to. Then I realized only real O.G's use fabric softener! Good bye thug left, hello Egyptian cotton 1800 thread count sheets! Macy's life!
 Below is a picture of what I would have looked like in two years if I had continued my life as a thug.