I never ever ran from the Ku Klux Klan, and I shouldn't have to run from a black man.

In the street, your mouth's a beak, big like a bird, and your future's bleak.

I'm on a higher plane with brain with a flame, feel the fire, desire the same.

Pharoahe Monch is like an eloquent linguistics professor moonlighting as a rhyme serial killer terrorist, challenging the listeners' I.Q. while daring him or her to keep up.

Learn your past, find your path.

Any man without a woman is incomplete, and vice-versa she's obsolete.

I don't write, I build a rhyme.