2pac

After the fire comes the rain, after the pleasure there’s pain

Even though we broke for the moment we’ll be balling again

I got my mind on makin’ money

But you stuck on these fake bitches

And jealous motherfuckers can’t see

That’s it’s the fame that causes

I ain’t got time for bitches
Gotta keep my mind on my motherfuckin’ riches
Even when I die, they won’t worry me
Mama don’t cry, bury me a G

I hit the weed and hope to God I can fly high

Please, Lord, forgive me for my life of sin
My hard stare seem to scare all my sister’s kids

I wonder if Heaven got a ghetto

I bring the real, be a legend, breathin’ or dead

It’s just my luck, I’m stuck with fuckin’ with the wrong one
Wise decisions, based on lies we livin’

Ran out of indo and my mind can’t take the stress, I’m out of breath

Make me wanna kill my damn self; but I see death around the corner

Fingertips on the hips as I dip
Gotta get a tight grip, don’t slip; loose lips sink ships

I throw peace to The Bay
‘Cause from The Jungle to Oaktown, they backin’ me up all the way

His talent was unbounded, a raw force that commanded attention and respect. His death was tragic–a violent homage to the power of his voice. His legacy is indomitable, remaining vibrant and alive.