A thin line between the haters and the ones who love us. A thinner line from the freedom and the foul judges, In the streets where the snake niggas hold grudges.
If I wasn't in the rap game, I'd probably have a key knee-deep in the crack game. Because the streets is a short stop: Either you're slinging crack rock or you got a wicked jump shot.
It's only a wonderful world if you can make it that way. There are no street signs pointing to Paradise Road.
First, many in Wall Street - a community in which quality control is not prized - will sell investors anything they will buy.
We learn about one another's culture the same way we learn about sex: in the streets.
The streets of every city in America are filled with men who would pay all the money they could lay their hands on to be transformed, even for a day, into hairy, hard-fisted brutes who walk all over cops, extort drinks from terrified bartenders and roar out of town on big motorcycles after raping the banker's daughter.
Our young people are out on the streets looking for parties, a place to dance, looking for a scene. No institutions are providing them with alternatives, fun things to do that don't necessarily have alcohol at the center.
When you're directing you're kind of interested in the movie and the story and the characters. I just sort of prefer the really tough fighting and some of the other street fighting type moves. You know, where it's not just show. It's not dressing it up for the cameras too much. It's pretty down and dirty, the way it should be. That's something I like to do. I do that.
I give interracial couples a look. Daggers. They get uncomfortable when they see me on the street.
We are owned by propagandists against the Arabs. There's no question about that. Congress, the White House, and Hollywood, Wall Street, are owned by the Zionists. No question in my opinion. They put their money where their mouth is...We're being pushed into a wrong direction in every way.
The snow has left the cottage top; The thatch moss grows in brighter green; And eaves in quick succession drop, Where grinning icicles have been, Pit-patting with a pleasant noise In tubs set by the cottage door; While duck and geese, with happy joys, Plunge in the yard pond brimming over. The sun peeps through the window pane: Which children mark with laughing eye, And in the wet street steal again To tell each other spring is night.
There was too much noise. Sirens from police cars and ambulances. Shouts from the crowd on the street eighteen floors below. Traffic from other streets and all of the noises of San Francisco. Mostly, though, there were the voices. Whispering to him. Reminding him of the dark things he had done - all of the little things he had forgotten, all of the big things he had tried to forget. Mostly they reminded him of his biggest secret, a betrayal of trust and friendship long ago. He squeezed his eyes shut as if that could somehow keep the voices away.
On a park bench on 12th street, my whole crew's famous, you try bust your gat and keep it rel but you nameless
A good programmer is someone who always looks both ways before crossing a one-way street.
Cynie Cory roams the outer reaches of the heart’s territory, from the snowy winter of family life to the tropical jungles of love. She wears her heart on her sleeve and it is as big as the country she writes about. Is she the quintessential American girl? You bet she is, part Annie Oakley, part Emily Dickinson—sharpshooting poet of wild nights. She zooms in on the detritus of love—the broken fragments, the fallen leaves—and puts together a collage that is as heartbreaking as it is beautiful. Watch out—she’s driving down your street.
Krzhizhanovsky wanted to perform imaginary experiments with the nature of time and space. Outside, in the streets, the Communist state was busy performing such experiments for real. In response, Krzhizhanovsky's prose has a recklessly unstable tone in which delighted examination of impossible worlds can slip into ferocious political sarcasm.... It is a method for investigating how much unreality reality can bear.
That we need help is easy to see every time we walk down the street. The experts confirm what the obscured view in front of us tells us. They estimate that 64% of adults in the United States are obese and that this percentage is growing. Even our children are being affected, as nearly every one in three American children under the age of 18 is overweight.
The meaning of the Street in all ways and at all times is the need for sharing life with others and the search for community.
The military ain't there for the people's protection, They're just there to protect an investment. That's why people get arrested, electrocuted, molested, Connected streets are infested with those tired of protesting. Traumatized children grown in guerrilla garrisons, 9/11 generations pale in comparison. And you will learn a lesson repeated through history: That no matter what you think, occupation is not victory.
I'm livin' in times where my daughters are found around Kids who can't afford thinking caps... But always found drinkin' raps and eatin' off beats, Claimin' laws of the streets. But who made the laws? Everybody playin' rebel with no sign of a cause.
You heard about, through word of mouth, Big Bird is out, he's in the house. He's turnin' up, with Snuffleup, They're really gettin' their hustle up. They stick together like Velcro, There Grover go, there's Elmo. And Cookie Monster there, look he likes To take selfies with his cell phone. They got a homegirl named Abby, Her last name is Cadabby, I showed her my report card, She said, 'Not too shabby!' They got all types of cool kids there, It's lots of fun if you live there, One thing I keep forgettin' about Sesame Street... How do you get there?
Wake up: all of that 'crack in the street' talk? It's made up, like 'Jack and the Beanstalk.'
Killing Lincoln is a must-read historical thriller. Bill O'Reilly recounts the dramatic events of the spring of 1865 with such exhilarating immediacy that you will feel like you are walking the streets of Washington DC on the night that John Wilkes Booth shot Abraham Lincoln. This is a hugely entertaining, heart-stopping read.
A pack of lemmings looks like a group of rugged individualists compared with Wall Street when it gets a concept in its teeth.
I get a lot of letters. Not only from children but from adults, too. Almost every week, every month, clippings come in from some part of the world where ducks are crossing the street.
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