I'm Very Much A Creature Of Habit.

God Sent Me To Piss The World Off!

People At Rehab Were Stealing My Hats And Pens And Notebooks And Asking For Autographs. I Couldn't Concentrate On My Problem.

The Writing Process, The Way I Go About It Is I Do Whatever The Beat Feels Like, Whatever The Beat Is Telling Me To Do. Usually When The Beat Comes On, I Think Of A Hook Or The Subject I Want To Rap About Almost Instantly. Within Four, Eight Bars Of It Playing I'm Just Like, 'oh, Ok. This Is What I Wanna Do'.

I Realize That Some People See Going Away As, "oh, He's Irrelevant Now," But I Feel Like If I Don't Go Away, I Get Sick Of Myself. It's Never Been My Thing To Be In The Spotlight All The Time.

All I See Is Sissies In Magazines Smiling... Whatever Happened To Wildin' Out And Being Violent? Whatever Happened To Catching A Good, Old-fashioned, Passionate Ass Whoopin'? And Getting Your Shoes, Coat And Your Hat Tooken?