I wake you up and as I stare in your face, you seem stunned. Remember me? The one you got your idea from?

Take 7 emcees put em in a line And add 7 more brothers who think they can rhyme It'll take 7 more before I go for mine And that's 21 emcees ate up at the same time.

I start to think, and then I sink Into the paper like I was ink When I'm writing, I'm trapped in between the lines I escape when I finish the rhyme.

It ain't where you're from, it's where you're at.

Stay wise and the mind is untouchable.

Teach the youth to speak the truth, show them what peace can do

I'm just an addict, addicted to music Maybe it's a habit...I gotta use it.

Timeless, so age don't count in the booth When your flow stay submerged in the fountain of youth

Thinkin' of a master plan Cause ain't nothin' but sweat inside my hand.

So I start my mission- leave my residence Thinkin how could I get some dead presidents

I'm everlastin, I can go on for days and days With rhyme displays that engrave deep as X-rays I can take a phrase that's rarely heard, FLIP IT Now it's a daily word

There is something sad about clothes laid in a tomb of trunks.

The money cost of the reservoir plan literally fades into insignificance when it is compared with the financial burden which the great depression imposed on the nation.

The people like the American Legion Post that gave us a chance to play. A place to play and a chance to play.

Children coming forth today have a greater capacity to deal with, the greater variety of information that is coming forth, than you did.

You must be an intellectual. A normal person would never believe a thing like that.

We have one life / It soon will be past / What we do for God / Is all that will last.

I think it's harder to make a classic now, not because of what people say, but because artists now are so concerned with what people say.

I finished 'The Hunger Games' trilogy, and I love most anything with zombies.

Once I was on the job, once I had got started, I felt safe enough, but the anticipation made me tense.

Ash on an old man's sleeve / Is all the ash the burnt roses leave, / Dust in the air suspended / Marks the place where a story ended.