There’s always going to be a layer of darkness around music that sprouted from the concrete; there's always going to be drugs (used and sold), fear, loathing, struggle, heartbreak and other subjects that are painful but relatable—easy to connect to and somehow still so distant. Sadly, I feel closer to the rags than the riches, to drunken genius than sober brilliance. The honesty of an addict has always been a truth that’s more compelling than the lies of a poser―the world burning is much warmer than a manufactured paradise―but I hate that some of my favorite art is from when artist were down and out.

See also: criticism of Coloring Book compared to Acid Rap