Bashment is more representative of a community, culture, lifestyle and dress...a term that denotes flamboyance, eccentricity and hype.
— Stephanie Johnson
Adrenalin pumped through me, readying myself for her words of vengeance, of anger and hurt and resentment for all I had put her through. I was ready for whatever she wanted to get off her chest and throw at me. I deserved to hear that at least. I gulped as she was finally standing before me.
— Stephanie Johnson 
Her expression of unconditional love for me was only delivered when I had given up on her and wanted nothing of her. It was like her sales pitch for getting back a customer she was about to lose. I focused on those memories, drilled hard into the emotions of the many incidences: the violence, despair, anger, hatred and pain. All the emotions that I was still trying to cleanse from my system.
— Stephanie Johnson 
Not'ing in this world is for free. What you tek from di world, di world ah goh tek from you. Same way when yuh ah give, yuh ah go get it back somehow, some way. But ah debt always needs to be paid, and whether yuh pay it wid cash or wid a life, di debt will get paid. So next time yuh see yuh lickle bwoyfriend, tell him yuh grandaddy sai': him inna debt to society and society 'im 'ave fi pay.
— Dada
Boredom hammered through me. I grabbed a light jacket, left the premises and headed in the direction of Ghetto where I hoped to find some kind of action. The 36 bus let me off at the top of Clifton Rise with a nonchalant flare. As I crossed over the road into Ghetto territory I saw the vague figures of Stella, Tanniqua and Shannon, who slowly came into focus as I approached them. They were loafing on the wall in front of Spanish Steps.
— Stephanie Johnson 
The sound system was set up on a lit-up stage. A deep, melodious-toned MC spoke over the reggae and dancehall beats that were put on by the DJ, who measured the beat with the pace of the MC's patter. At the MC's command, the DJ would stop, rewind, scratch and play notorious tunes. These were prepped up for glamorous introductions that would whip up the crowd into a frenzy. The hoarse Jamaican vocals resonated from eight humungous speakers and drew everyone into captivated submission. We moved through the crowd, passing walls of men and women slow grinding. We walked past a few old-timers skanking wildly with swinging locks.
— Stephanie Johnson
That summer of 1994, I knocked on my sister's front door with aggression. No one was answering. I think I had been impatient from birth, even at the point of leaving my mother's womb. I smashed the knocker down so it reverberated back and forth like a ping-pong machine.
— Stephanie Johnson
She was kitted out from head to toe in designer clothing. She wore skin-tight patterned Versace jeans, a fitted white top with Georgio Armani sprawled across the front, a Moschino belt with gold black lettering and flat Gucci loafers with the Gucci link. Plus a black bomber jacket that had the Versace logo engraved on the back. Her hair was dyed a platinum blonde and cut short like T-Boz from TLC.
— Stephanie Johnson 
In the nineties, when rappers mentioned they were in beef with another rapper…you knew what time it was. They weren’t going to have a dance-off or DJ spin-off like they did in the eighties – things had evolved since then.
— Stephanie Johnson