If you walked by a street and 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.

I feel like Black Jesus got his hands on me and guides me through life to put me where I'm supposed to be.

I believe in God. Whatever supposed to happen supposed to happen. But I can not live in a jail cell. That's why I don't rob people and stick up people.

Take a look at my family, a different father every weekend.

Everyday there's more death, and plus I'm doughless. I'm seeing more reasons for me to proceed with thieving.

Though are hands are chained like they are, they haven't taken music from us yet. So that's how I'll fight. People tell me don't quit like everyone else. I wont have no fear.

EVEN THOUGH I'M MARKED FOR DEATH, I'MA SPARK TILL I LOSE MY BREATH