"Fuck a holster, got the MAC-11 swingin' from my shoulder."

“Peace to Ron G, Brucy B, Kid Capri, Funkmaster Flex, Lovebug Starsky.”

“When I die? Fuck it, I wanna go to hell, 'cause I'm a piece of shit. It ain't hard to fuckin' tell.”

“There's gonna' be a lotta slow singin' and flower bringin' if my burglar alarm starts ringin'.”

“Is Brooklyn in the house? Without a doubt, I'm the rapper with clout everybody yap about.”

“It was all a dream, I used to read Word Up magazine. Salt-n-Peppa, Heavy D up in tha limousine. Hangin' pictures on my wall, every Saturday rap attack, Mr. Magic Marley Marl. I let my tape rock till my tape pop, smoking weed and bamboo, sippin' on Private Stock. Way back, when I had the red-and-black lumberjack, with the hat to match. Remember Rappin' Duke? Duh-ha duh-ha, you never thought that hip hop would take it this far. Now I'm in the limelight 'cause I rhyme tight. Time to get paid, blow up like the World Trade! Born sinner, the opposite of a winner. Remember when I used to eat sardines for dinner.”

“Super Nintendo, Sega Genesis. When I was dead broke, man, I couldn't picture this.”