“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.

Someone asked me what home was and all I could think of were the stars on the tip of your tongue, the flowers sprouting from your mouth, the roots entwined in the gaps between your fingers, the ocean echoing inside of your ribcage.

Someone asked me what home was and all I could think of were the stars on the tip of your tongue, the flowers sprouting from your mouth, the roots entwined in the gaps between your fingers, the ocean echoing inside of your ribcage.

Love is like quicksilver in the hand. Leave the fingers open and it stays. Clutch it and it darts away.

Like a compass needle that points north, a man’s accusing finger always finds a woman. Always.

Jesus humbled himself. He went from commanding angels to sleeping in the straw. From holding stars to clutching Mary’s finger. The palm that held the universe took the nail of a soldier. Why? Because that’s what love does. It puts the beloved before itself.

The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ, Moves on: nor all your Piety nor Wit Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line, Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it.

The moving finger writes; and having writ, moves on.

God’s finger touched him, and he slept.