| (*Prod. by Quincey Jones) | |
| [Winds of change have blown* | |
| What goes around is sadness] | |
| [Master Ace:] | |
| I love rap music, I spit it from the heart | |
| I did it a lot of years, been in it from the start | |
| As time has gone by, to whom it may concern | |
| I paid close attention, let me tell you what I learned | |
| Today and tomorrow's a reflection of the past | |
| Life's like a cycle and nothing ever lasts | |
| And bein' that we human, we forced to play the game | |
| The more things change it seems the more they stay the same | |
| [Verse:] | |
| From MJ to Usher, from Heav' D to Bonecrusher | |
| Hip hop culture, new school to old lovers | |
| Soul brothas, James Brown to Pete Rock | |
| Timbos, 5411 Reeboks | |
| Jordan to Bryant, try to triumph | |
| The winds of change all revolved around science | |
| From Walkmen to iPods, long as I'm breathin' | |
| Game changes like the Earth with the seasons | |
| [Wordsworth:] | |
| From summer to fall, from winter to spring | |
| From gold ropes to platinum chains and rings | |
| Coleco and television, Atari to PS3 | |
| From Gameboy to a PSP | |
| Beta to DVD, tape to CD | |
| Plasma and LCD from black and white TV | |
| Every day life's destined to change forever | |
| But some things are never better than their predecessors | |
| Come on | |
| [The past, the present, the future] | |
| [Master Ace:] | |
| From the fur Kangols that I wore as a kid | |
| To the headbands and fitted hats a few sizes too big | |
| From OshKosh, Jordache and Benetton | |
| To Rocawear, Phat Farm and Sean John | |
| From suede Pumas and goin' back with the Keds | |
| To Jordan 20s with the strap, black and red | |
| From sharkskin slacks and some mean gabardines | |
| To Akademik, ENYCE and G-Unit jeans | |
| [Verse:] | |
| From Wild Style to Krush Groove and Tougher Than Leather | |
| To Turbo and Ozone, no one did it better | |
| From Breakin' an' Beat Streat, Ramo and Lee | |
| To Paid in Full and Eight Mile, Life in the D | |
| From Murphy to Richard Pryor, funny as hell | |
| To Martin and Chris Rock and Dave Chappelle | |
| Time flies and it feels so strange | |
| You've got to love to ride the winds of change | |
| [Wordsworth:] | |
| Holdin' a picture frame wishin' that we didn't age | |
| Photo album cellophane, shocked as I flip the page | |
| Snapshots on stage and the tour van that we wrecked | |
| Videos and DVDs of us rehearsin' our set | |
| In my sixties: bald, grey beard, wrinkled skin | |
| Glasses, gettin' thin, jaw line sinkin' in | |
| Thinkin' then were different times, young, in my prime | |
| At fifty-five started forgettin' lines, mumblin' rhymes | |
| Wrote books, scripts, screenplays, stayed lyrical | |
| MP3's digital, vinyl is now minimal | |
| It's critical, still freestylin' with my grandkid | |
| The beats and the flows are new, but I understand his | |
| Old school, not bitter, I don't have a grudge | |
| Not that my era was better, just tell 'em how it was | |
| It's noon, the car's here, headin to the studio | |
| The Garden sold out a week straight for our reunion show | |
| [Master Ace:] | |
| Today and tomorrow's a reflection of the past | |
| Life's like a cycle and nothing ever lasts | |
| But bein' that we human, we forced to play the game | |
| The more things change it seems the more they stay the same |
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