The question that drives me hazy is whether it is I or others who is crazy.
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The reason I want to be alone, is I'm tired of all the things that went wrong that would've went right if I had did 'em on my own
I don't respect killers, I respect O. G. knowledge, Codes of the streets got new rules, but no guidance. Lessons, detrimental to a young disciple; Folks, take care of your brothers, niggas do as I do. Keep your enemies close, where they can see you. It's not your enemy who get you, it's always your own people.
"Never stop. Never settle. " I believe in this message.
Аll I need is one life, one try, one breath, I'm one man. What I stand for speaks for itself. . . they don't understand.
Don't speak to fools, they scorn the wisdom of your words.
I throw down the gauntlet to chance. For example, I prepare the ground for a picture by cleaning my brush over the canvas. Spilling a little turpentine can also be helpful.
The age of the pulp magazine was the last in which youngsters, to get their primitive material, were forced to be literate.
Picabia is a very old painter who some people try to connect me to, but I refuse such comparisons very well.
I know what I say; I understand my mission and business. God Almighty is my shield; and what can man do if God is my friend?