I’ve gone seventy-nine hours without sleep, creating. When that flow is going, it’s almost like a high. You don’t want it to stop. You don’t want to go to sleep for fear of missing something.
I’m expressin’ with my full capabilities, And now I’m livin in correctional facilities. Cause some don’t agree with how I do this, I get straight and meditate like a Buddhist.
People are always coming up to me, thinking I’ve got some magic wand that can make them a star and I want to tell them that no one can do that. Making hit records is not that easy. But it took me time to realize that myself.
I don’t even listen to the records after they come out. It’s outlawed in my house. My wife and my kids can’t play any of my music around me. Once it comes out, for me, it’s just business. Numbers.
They wanna hang us, see us dead, or enslave us, keep us trapped in the same place we raised in. Then they wonder why we act so outrageous, run around stressed out and pull out gauges.
