I'll probably get shot for this. Eh, I had a good run.

Dwight Grant is equal parts brilliant lyricist and deranged psychopath. I still never understood how a guy with that much talent would have his career see more blanks than Helen Keller, yet a combination of blind faith, bad business decisions and personal mistakes has left the gifted emcee on a downward spiral in ways that is both disheartening and expected.

I still think of Dwight as that monster, prototypical lyricist ever since he outshined Dice Raw, Malik B and Black Thought on his formal introduction, The Roots’ “Adrenaline,” over a decade ago. When he signed to Roc-A-Fella it was as if the stars had aligned perfectly for him; the label was in its infantile stages of dominating hip hop, and Dwight bolstered a lineup that had, well, two musically inferior compatriots in Amil and Memphis Bleek, arguably becoming one of the better acts on the label. His debut album, The Truth, was a magnum opus that featured production from a pair of then-unknown in-house producers, Kanye West and Just Blaze, and his subsequent albums all but validated he was “next.”

But, as they always say, it was all good just a week ago.

We all saw a glimpse of Dwight’s psychosis during Jay-Z’s episode of MTV’s Diary series when, after brief spat between Jay and some jealous partygoers, Dwight jumped into the crowd Ron Artest-style to attack the alleged disrespectful patron. Things all started to fall apart, however, after Dwight was nearly convicted of attempted murder in 2004 and, while locked up his former label was infamously split apart between its two head honchos, leaving Dwight as a man without a home.

I guess no beer and no TV make Homer something something being in prison and watching your family bitterly dissolve their relationship (leaving you as the proverbial creepy, molester uncle nobody wants to invite to family get-togethers) did something to Dwight that no man should have to experience. With apparently nobody in his corner, Dwight has lashed out at any and everybody within arms reach, spazzing on everyone from Drake down to the guy he actually shot. Meanwhile his musical output has suffered to nigh Prodigy-after-“The Takeover” levels, teaming up with rap’s court jester 50 Cent to diss his former boss, and claiming that he was cheated out of millions of dollars, all the while coming across as a scorned, bitter lover the whole time.

I don’t know if Dwight will ever regain that valiant, lyrically pervasive form again. But seeing as how most young rappers from the hood revert back into old curmudgeons, I highly doubt it at this point.

“Bread & Butter” is still my shit, though.