Oh Lord, help me change my ways, Show a litlle mercy on judgement day, It aint me I was raised this way, Never let em' play me for a busta, Makin' hell for a huslter.

I am not a perfectionist, but still I seek perfection. I am not a great romantic, but yet I yearn 4 affection

Did you hear about the rose that grew from a crack in the concrete? Proving nature's laws wrong, it learned to walk without having feet. Funny, it seems to by keeping it's dreams; it learned to breathe fresh air. Long live the rose that grew from concrete when no one else even cared.

Niggaz need guns, too.

There's nobody in the business strong enough to scare me.

The hard times make a true friend afraid to ask.

We look at death from the selfish side, like: "That guy died. Oh, it's so sad." Why is it sad? He's away from all of this bad stuff that's here on Earth. I mean, at the worst, he's just somewhere quiet, no nothing. At best, he's an angel... or he's a spirit somewhere. What is so bad about that?