My mother taught me three things, respect, knowledge-search for knowledge, it's an eternal journey. That's like my hair-cut, the line, 360 degrees, find knowledge always. And she taught me to not be quiet, if there's something on my mind speak it. But also to listen.

They claim that I'm violent just cuz I refuse to be silent.

It seems like every time you come up something happens to bring you back down.

Our unborn never got to grow, never got to see what's, next, In this world full of countless threats.

Strugglin' and striving, that's how the dough come.

Some say the blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice I say the darker the flesh then the deeper the roots

Dont blame me, I was given this world, I didn't make it.