Street's Disciple, My Raps Are Trifle. I

I Rap For Listeners, Blunt Heads, Fly Ladies And Prisoners

We're All Africans, Everyone - Black, White, Yellow.

Act Your Age Don't Pretend To Be Older Than You Are Give Yourself Time To Grow

On The Reals, All These Crab Niggaz Know The Deal, When We Start The Revolution, All They'll Probably Do Is Squeal.

Hip-hop Ain't Died Because Of The South, That's Retarded. When I Named The Album Originally, I Thought I Bit Off More Than I Could Chew But You'd Be An Idiot To Think I'm Talking About How The South Killed Hip-hop Or How New York Isn't Where It Should Be Or Where It Once Was. It Was Like, "damn, I Need To Explain This?" But I Thought, "nah, The Proof Is Right There. We Should Know What It Is." I Expect The Hip-hop Audience To Be Avant Garde. I Want Them To Be Where I'm At Or Beyond Where I'm At.