For 2pac

For 2pac

You look at the blackground of this photo and you think it's New York. Babyboy, it's Dubai. New York ain't the only one that glitters and has skyscrapers, picketpockets and panhandlers. It ain't me against the world. It's me against the slinking whisperer who whispers into my ear and heart trying to distort my soul. My mom told me early on and I ain't never forgotten it, "Choose your friends wisely." What is a friend? Well, one aspect of a friend is someone who will tell you something you want to hear and something you don't want to hear. A friend looks out for your best interest. Sometimes he does it gently and other times harshly, depending on what he feel is needed. 2pac is still loved be it in Cali, Cleveland, Morocco, Saudi Arabia, Japan, Australia, France, Spain, Korea, Russia, Sweden, Oman etc. Wherever I go and when I meet the youth, I ask them, "Do you like Pac?" They all reply in whatever accent, "We love Pac!" Pac, it was never you against the world. Yes, the world is pregnant with hate and blame is its afterbirth. But you were a bright son. You were a courageous voice. You were our conscience and lack of manhood. You spoke and sometimes we were repelled by you. We didn't try to understand you, we simply branded you a mixed up soul. But what did we do to help you because you didn't have to bear it all. We didn't listen to your cries. You and Biggie battling over what? One man taking shots at another, for what? For who? Masculinity needs identity in order to have empathy. We, who call ourselves men looked from a distance and didn't show you how to go the distance. If we would've listened to you, maybe we could've intervened but I guess Biggie summed it all up, "Give me one more chance."

(Next time you see a soul who looks confused grab a hold of him and this is how we can give 2pac or Biggie one more chance)