A Quote by Lonzo Ball

Ain't nobody bumping Nas no more, no disrespect to him. He had his time. — © Lonzo Ball
Ain't nobody bumping Nas no more, no disrespect to him. He had his time.
This sutra enjoins a rule of morality. It says nobody should be disrespected. A man can impress evdrybnody by his virtues. Disrespecting others means downfall of our own virtues. A person who disrespects others, in a way disrespect himself. A virtuous man does not disrespect his friend or vevn his enemy. Disrespect to enemy can investigate him toreact. The best thing is to destroy him completely. For a ruler this is very important.
Nas' longevity comes from him having strong lyrical value in his songs, him being more like a poet and improving over time.
Nas is someone who can communicate with the streets and can still keep it real in terms of being human, he doesn't try to be this super perfect person, but has respect for his history and for his ancestors and for spirituality. So Nas always displayed that in his music, while at the same time keeping it hard and something that you can relate to.
Nobody even mentioned the word losing, losing games. We know we've been a losing franchise. He just wanted to say something back like he's always running his mouth. That's what he does. He runs his mouth all the time. Nobody was blaming him for anything. For him to come back at me was a personal attack. I feel that if there is anything that he is unsure about, tell him I would be more than happy to say it in his face, or any kind of other way, that would make him understand.
Jesus was not famous in his day. If there were no Bible, there would have been no record of him. The record belongs to his four disciples; nobody else has ever mentioned him, whether he existed or not. He was not famous. He was not successful. Can you think of a greater failure than Jesus? But, by and by, he became more and more significant; by and by, people recognized him. It takes time.
In the end, he was nobody to Adam, he was nobody to Ronan. Adam spit his words back at him and Ronan squandered however many second chances he gave him. Gansey was just a guy with a lot of stuff and a hole inside him that chewed away more of his heart every year.
The Netflix thing with Nas is more of a documentary, where we kind of... talk. We go to my neighborhood. You get to see where I'm from and all that. And then, I'm in the studio with Nas.
Her absence had felt like torture--almost a form of personal punishment. He had nobody to discuss his feelings with, and for the first time he realised with appalling clarity what a destructive hold she had over him.
His books were part of him. Each year of his life, it seemed, his books became more and more a part of him. This room, thirty by twenty feet, and the walls of shelves filled with books, had for him the murmuring of many voices. In the books of Herodotus, Tacitus, Rabelais, Thomas Browne, John Milton, and scores of others, he had found men of face and voice more real to him than many a man he had met for a smoke and a talk.
I was crying and laughing, snuffing tears and blood, bumping at him with my bound hands, trying awkwardly to thrust them at him so that he could cut the rope. He quit grappling, and clutched me so hard against him that I yelped in pain as my face was pressed against his plaid. He was saying something else, urgently, but I couldn’t manage to translate it. Energy pulsed through him, hot and violent, like the current in a live wire, and I vaguely realized that he was still almost berserk; he had no English.
Westley closed his eyes. There was pain coming and he had to be ready for it. He had to prepare his brain, he had to get his mind controlled and safe from their efforts, so that they could not break him. He would not let them break him. He would hold together against anything and all. If only they gave him sufficient time to make ready, he knew he could defeat pain. It turned out they gave him sufficient time (it was months before the Machine was ready). But they broke him anyway.
As she watched him she understood the quality of his beauty. How his labor had shaped him. How the wood he fashioned had fashioned him. Each plank he planed, each nail he drove, each thing he made molded him. Had left its stamp on him. Had given him his strength, his supple grace.
Somebody might have come along that way who would have asked him his trouble, and might have cheered him by saying that his notions were further advanced than those of his grammarian. But nobody did come, because nobody does; and under the crushing recognition of his gigantic error Jude continued to wish himself out of the world.
When you look at Michael Jackson, there's nobody who loves him in that family, nobody. If they did, they'd tell him he didn't have to do all that in order to be famous. All he has to do is keep doing his music and be himself. Michael's been a little touched for about 20 years, but somebody needs to pull him aside and tell him they love him.
Don't nobody listen to Nas anymore.
I had always been a fan of Nas, but I never met him. This is the one guy in the industry who's, like, the phantom rapper.
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