Dear Mama, Don't Cry, Your

My Music Is Not For Everyone. It's Only For The Stong-willed, The [street] Soldiers Music. It's Not Like Party Music- I Mean, You Could Gig To It, But It's Spiritual. My Musi Is Spiritual. It's Like Negro Spiituals, Except For The Fact That I'm Not Saying 'we Shall Overcome.' I'm Saying That We Are Overcome.

The Lesser The Friends, The Lesser The Chances Of Betrayal.

There’s No Way That Michael Jackson Or Whoever Jackson Should Have A Million Thousand Droople Billion Dollars And Then There’s People Starving. There’s No Way! There’s No Way That These People Should Own Planes And There People Don’t Have Houses. Apartments. Shacks. Drawers. Pants! I Know You’re Rich. I Know You Got 40 Billion Dollars, But Can You Just Keep It To One House? You Only Need One House. And If You Only Got Two Kids, Can You Just Keep It To Two Rooms? I Mean Why Have 52 Rooms And You Know There’s Somebody With No Room?! It Just Don’t Make Sense To Me. It Don’t.

Heaven Ain't Hard To Find; All You Gotta Do Is Look.

That Which Does Not Kill Me Can Only Make Me Stronger.