Sep. 13, 2017

9/13/96 - 9/13/2017

"21 years in the ground my brother wish you were still around; spitting rhymes, dimes, and lines in my town because Pac you had a definite urbane sound. Pac you, my brother was crowned king of the gritty, city phrases and Pac you made magic with verses. I simply don't understand why young gifted brothers like yourself end up taking early rides in a hearse? You, who had so many sharp verses should never have been caught up in this black man's curse. You see the flow you created Pac, was so damn terse never seemed to be overly rehearsed. You died twenty-one years ago today. How many more black men have also died that way? Your bullet-riddled body that demolished your genius endowed brain, no longer my brother could you make it rain, for it ended your bars reign."

#joesmokethoughts