If you let a person talk long enough you'll hear their true intentions. Listen twice, speak once.

In my death, people will understand what I was talking about.

God will judge my heart, Man will judge my actions.

Can't nobody touch me right now. Maybe next month all of this will be over. But this month I'm takin' every movin' target out.

My mother was a woman. A black woman. A single mother. Raising two kids on her own. So she was dark skinned. Had short hair. Got no love from nobody except for a group called the Black Panthers. So that's why she was a Black Panther.

They wanna censor me, they ratha see me in a cell, livin' in hell, with only a few of us to live to tell.

Gangsta Rap is dead. I've moved on. And the raps that I'm rappin to my community shouldn't be filled with rage? They shouldn't be filled with same attrocities that they gave me? The media they don't talk about it, so in my raps I have to talk about it, and it seems foreign because there's no one else talking about it.