Keep your head up, Legs closed, Eyes open.

If I could patent 'being real', I think I could own that.

I wonder if heaven got a ghetto?

Instead of of being so metaphorical with the rhyme, I was encouraged to go straight at it and hit it dead on and not waste time trying to cover things.

After a long day of trying, to make my songs pay, making love all day against the wall in the hallway.

Why isn't it hip-hop when I do it? Everybody else can have beef within the music, talk about differences and it's ok. It's music, it's hip-hop, it's ground breaking. When I do it, it's war.

Now up and atom it's on, I was raised to be strong, and mama told me be a thug since the day I was born. The fame was a plot to try a change me, and what's strange is nobody knew my name.