I pledge allegiance to the fair and balanced truth. Not the biased truth, Not the liest truth, But the highest truth.

Props is a true thug's wife.

It's a thin line between paper and hate, Friends and snakes, nine millis and thirty-eights, Hell or the pearly gates...I was destined to come, Predicted, blame God, He blew breath in my lungs.

I'm a firm believer that we all meet up in eternity, Just hope the Big Man show me some courtesy

...Shorty's laugh was cold-blooded as he spoke so foul, Only twelve tryin to tell me that he liked my style. Then I rose, wiping the blunt's ash from my clothes, Then froze, only to blow the herb smoke through my nose.

With rap music, because it's all so on the street, you get treated like a street cat: "All right, you've been eatin' enough, you're fat, get out of the way now and let somebody else come by."

My duration's infinite, money-wise or physiology.

The Chinamen built the railroad, the Indians saved the Pilgrim, And in return, the Pilgrim killed 'em. They call it it Thanksgiving, I call your holiday 'hell-day.'

On the reals, all these crab niggaz know the deal, When we start the revolution, all they'll probably do is squeal.