“Friday the 13th…I’mma play Jason!”

Keep food in the fridge, so it don’t go stale. When there is nothing left to eat, I bite my nails.

Your parents were always trying to get you to be careful when you were a kid, and that’s all pervasive in this society.

It’s hard making a woman your wife when you’ve been humpin married women for most of your life

Plenty poisoned minds of the people are ours. Slaves, from mental death.

I relieve rappers just like Tylenol

Control what I hold and of course be the boss of myself, no-one else will bring my wealth.

So put a quarter in your ass Cuz ya played ya’self

There’s no time for conversation dear, moan is all I want to hear.

If you are what you eat then feed me dope.

Save your wack rhymes, hold your female. Pass the Old Gold, trash the ale. Cash your food stamps, get the WIC out the mail. Love to eat shrimps, but I never eat snail,

I don’t remember saying nothing about me crossing over. I did R&B collaborations but I never tried to do no pop stuff.

Take a stand and command to demand what’s grand.

I guess you’re not gonna be happy til’ it’s for real. Four year old kids, doing drive-bys on Big Wheels.

Eat a whole fish except for the tail. Keep food in the fridge so it don’t get stale, And when there’s nothing to eat…I bite my nails.

I take them 8 to 80, dumb, crippled, and crazy. Crisp and clean with no caffeine, and a pair of spandex or either tight jeans.

There are desires that we all want to achieve, but remember respect is most greatest to receive.

I was a weekend drinker…I’d start on Saturday, end on Friday…thought I was controlling it…but I don’t drink any more.

A rap pro, do a show, good to go, also Cameo afro, Virgo, domino, I go Rambo, Gigolo, Romeo, Friday night spend money on a ho…tel, To get a good night’s sleep, I’m keeping in step. Now do I come off? Yep.

As you walk down the fairway of life you must smell the roses, for you only get to play one round.

We are Easter people living in a Good Friday world.

Sunday clears away the rust of the whole week.

I can’t remember a Friday when I was younger when I wasn’t eating a pizza, flirting with the barman.

I came home every Friday afternoon, riding the six miles on the back of a big mule. I spent Saturday and Sunday washing and ironing and cooking for the children and went back to my country school on Sunday afternoon.

Every Friday I used to have about fifty, sixty kids who would wait for me on Sunset Boulevard and I’d take them all to dinner. All runaways.