I'm over dey heads like a bulemic on a seesaw

I fell in love with words and I think that made my mom smile. I think that was cool for her.

You a slave to a page in my rhyme book.

To me, creatively challenging myself is my version of owning the Nets.

Your look reflects whats happening in your mind.

I want you to know who I am: what the streets taste like, feel like, smell like. What the cops talk like, walk like, think like. What crackheads do - I wanted you to smell it, feel it. It was important to me that I told the story that way because I thought that it wouldn't be told if I didn't tell it.

Once you make it to your point of making it, you'll appreciate the struggle.