A Quote by Nipsey Hussle

Material things ain't nothing. You feel me? At the end of the day, it's who you is. You wasn't born with it; you gon' die without it. — © Nipsey Hussle
Material things ain't nothing. You feel me? At the end of the day, it's who you is. You wasn't born with it; you gon' die without it.
And is an ending always bad? it asked. Must not all things, even worlds, someday end?"There is no need to hasten that end," Vin said. "No reason to force it."All things are subject to their own nature, Vin, Ruin said, seeming to flow around her. She could feel its touch upon her - wet and delicate, like mist. You cannot blame me for being what I am. Without me, nothing would end. Nothing could end. And therefore, nothing could grow. I am life. Would you fight life itself?
A lot of times it seems like, you ain't gon' make it where you wanna be in life. But, yo if you got a plan, believe me you gon' get there. You gon' get everything you ever wanted
I die a hundred deaths each day. I die when I see hungry people. Or people who're sad. I die when I know I can do nothing about pollution in Mumbai. I die when I feel helpless when my loved one is in pain.
I went through every emotion with tryna pursue what I'm doing, you know what I mean? And I think what's gon' separate whoever's gon go for something, that you ain't gon' quit.
We all die at the end, but does that nullify everything? Would most people rather say, "I wish I hadn't been born?" Once you're born you'll have to die, now is that funny or sad?
Part of me knows one more day won't do anything except postpone the heartbreak. But another part of me believes differently. We are born in one day. We die in one day. We can change in one day. And we can fall in love in one day. Anything can happen in just one day.
Everything I wanted before, I want twice as much now. And that doesn't mean material things; it means to explore more, to think more. Being an artist doesn't start because you're 21, and it doesn't end because you're 51. You are who you are until the day you die.
Being a parent is a life sentence. From the day that kid is born until the day you die and then some. Mom, there is nothing to forgive. You gave me life. And, hey, you're not crazy anymore. Everybody thinks I am. Real funny, mom.
So you were born, and that was a good day. Some day you'll die, and that is a shame. But somewhere in the between, you'll live a life of which we'll all dream, and nothing and no one will ever take that away.
Why are we born? We're born eventually to die, of course. But what happens between the time we're born and we die? We're born to live. One is a realist if one hopes.
You alone govern the nature of things. Without you nothing emerges into the light of day, without you nothing is joyous or lovely.
Have you not done tormenting me with your accursed time! It's abominable! When! When! One day, is that not enough for you, one day he went dumb, one day I went blind, one day we'll go deaf, one day we were born, one day we shall die, the same day, the same second, is that not enough for you? They give birth astride of a grave, the light gleams an instant, then it's night once more.
The whole material world. It doesn't actually exist. Matter is not material. It's made up of atoms that are moving at lightning speeds around huge empty spaces. So as you go beyond the appearance of molecules, you end up with a subatomic world, and if you go beyond that you end up with nothing. Nothing is the source of everything.
At the end of the day, there's probably nothing that makes me feel better than junk food and reality TV.
You're gon' have to say to your self, am I gon' believe what them fools say about me today?
I could see the road ahead of me. I was poor and I was going to stay poor. But I didn't particularly want money. I didn't know what I wanted. Yes, I did. I wanted someplace to hide out, someplace where one didn't have to do anything. The thought of being something didn't only appall me, it sickened me . . . To do things, to be part of family picnics, Christmas, the 4th of July, Labor Day, Mother's Day . . . was a man born just to endure those things and then die? I would rather be a dishwasher, return alone to a tiny room and drink myself to sleep.
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