My tears must stop, for every drop Hinders needle and thread.
Scholars, street knowledge, Carter kids stuck in the projects.
I know these dirty cops that'll get us in if we murder some Wop.
There's no longevity, living off of negativity.
. . . in the middle of Little Italy little did we know that we riddled some middleman who didn't do diddily
Never we sleep, a thug doesn't rest, Cause a wise man said: it was a cousin of death.
I blow my own mind like Nirvana, and go the whole nine like Madonna.
To tell you the truth, I'm not unhappy about it. I'm not even sure that I like the idea of adapting novels into films. It's very difficult to do, and it usually doesn't work. There are exceptions, but generally speaking, one feels disappointed with the result.
I'm a grown woman. I've earned my experiences, my scars.
I know what you're thinking. Did he fire six shots or only five? Well, to tell you the truth, in all this excitement, I've kinda lost track myself. But being as this is a. 44 magnum, the most powerful handgun in the world, and would blow your head clean off, you've got to ask yourself one question: "Do I feel lucky?" Well, do ya, punk?
That's what is most satisfying, is having overcome that pain. Pain that is so intense that when you finish, it feels like you're going to die. That's what I wanted, and that's what I got.