I am the calculated depths of twisted and conniving. Known as “Will Be” because I live ten steps ahead in what will be, willing to will you to my being, ’til your wheels fall off as I watch – sightseeing. My heart and mind rarely agree, because my heart doesn’t really feel anything, and my brain doesn’t care even when it does. You won’t notice me standing out on the block… although if you look carefully you’ll notice I’m the one consistently with no socks. Even now as you’re listening to me I’m sure you’re thinking “man is this guy pha-rel?” I’m completely despicable, like Daffy, I spit all over how you feel.
Watch out when you think you’re gaining the upper hand… Chances are your chances have already ran, and your plan’s about to get canned, and then thrown into the street like leftover grease out of the pan. I’m a man. Or perhaps I am woman. Residing in the shadows of foreboding intellectual genius… I am the very shackle keeping all you slaves from freedom. Keep your hats on, because I’m steadily adjusting your life, pushing you through doors into the day or the night, the choice contingent upon whichever will work out to be your vice. No… I’m NOT nice.
If I put my song upon a tray, the melodies would sing “It’s mista steal yo girl.” My favorite version is the remix “I am here to steal yo world.” Palming your existence, and molding it to my whim. You cannot stop me. Your smarts are mere darkness, mine are so bright that they’re glistening. Nobody can hook me, I’m the reason Bobby Fischer went missing. Lex Luthor, The Joker, Darth Vader… They all get their tips from me. I don’t run it all – but I assure you I run everything… If you’re not afraid by now, then you’re either me or incredibly psychologically deficient. And since I am he who you could never be – I guess the second choice describes your existence. … I don’t hate life… I love it. I thank God that he created it. I make dough, to play dough, with you so, I guess at the rope’s end, I’m riches, and you’re foreign exchange – peso.