“We put boogers on our fingers, then shake your hand.”

We always honor our people when they die; we’ve got to honor them while we’re still alive.

I can be serious, but there’s got to be a lighter side.

There’s not enough people being daring and different. There are a lot of followers in hip-hop.

I just wanted to be different; I didn’t wanna sound like anybody else.

My thing is whatever comes at me, I’m there. But DJ-ing and music is my passion. I’m going to be unpredictable.

Damn it feels good to see people up on it.

I can sell anything. I’m very convincing.

I would never be a sellout, but you can never be a sellout to kids. Kids is kids!

When I used to be on stage, I used to be out of breath; I couldn’t walk that far. Now, I got so much energy. I can do a whole show.

I really want to be the black Mr. Rogers – that’s my goal. I would do everything the same but with a hip-hop feel to it.

We’re out playing ball in the gym, I put boogers on the basketball and pass it to him

I don’t care about anything but what I want to do. You can’t worry about what else is happening out there. You have to be true to yourself.

They say I look and sound ugly but I don’t be carin.

Language is a skin: I rub my language against the other. It is as if I had words instead of fingers, or fingers at the tip of my words. My language trembles with desire.

I like vocal word stuff. But I don’t always write with an instrument, I usually write a capella. It’s more like drawing in the air with your fingers. It’s closest to the choreography of a bee. You’re freer.

I taught my first class at a local elementary school the year my first book, ‘Flying Fingers,’ debuted.

A good book for an illiterate is a golden ring for a fingerless hand!

Not responding is a response–we are equally responsible for what we don’t do. In the case of animal slaughter, to throw your hands in the air is to wrap your fingers around a knife handle.

She extended a hand that I didn’t know how to take, so I broke its fingers with my silence.

I can’t take it all in or else I’ll grow cold when the heat already escapes my fingers and toes.

I would hold the rosy, slender fingers of the dawn for you.