To my dogs.. wherever you are
Whattup Big? You know shit is rough after you slid
You in God's hands now, keep a place for me kid
Ain't nuttin changed -- still _Party and Bullshit_
We used to +Fuck R&B Bitches+ and see who rhyme sickest
For every hit you made, more rappers afraid to come out
_Machine Gun Funk_, from Queens I came through to smoke blunts
You came to my hood, we was broke
I wonder if we stayed that way, would there have been gunsmoke?
Still on the block around fiends numb from coke, I guess so
Cause now with paper, shit is still ghetto
But fuck it black, you livin your life, though your loved ones
Peace to your daughter and your newborn son
It used to be fun, makin records to see your response
But, now competition is none, now that you're gone
And these niggaz is wrong -- usin your name in vain
And they claim to be New York's king? It ain't about that
It's more serious, I plan to toast it up with you
Joke with you, happy we on top, the most official
Ain't too many real ones out there; I feel some
but doubt they're, capable, to take it where you took it to
I missed your wake not cause I'm fake
cause I hate to see somebody so great in that way
I woulda stayed so long with so much to say
I had to put it in writin to keep me and Brooklyn from fightin
Tellin me to pay my respects and move to the side
But I probably wouldn't have got off my knees to let people by
You can't kill nothin that's _Ready to Die_
You was like God to us in the form of Allah
Still somehow I believe, we always survive.. but why?
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