Let the Lord judge the criminals.

It's a struggle for every young Black man. You know how it is, only God can judge us.

Somebody help me, tell me where to go from here cause even Thugs cry, but do the Lord care?

If you walked by a street and as you was walking a concrete and you saw a rose growing from concrete, even if it had messed up petals and it was a little to the side you would marvel at just seeing a rose grow through concrete. So way is it that when you see some ghetto kid grow out of the dirtiest circumstance and he can talk and he can sit across the room and make you cry, make you laugh, all you can talk about is my dirty rose, my dirty stems and how am leaning crooked to the side, u can't even see that I've come up from out of that.

There's nobody in the business strong enough to scare me.

I just don't know how to deal with so many people giving me that much affection. I never had that in my life.