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Pac and Biggie Week Continues at MnB: Miss U

Today we roll with a classic off of Life After Death - but probably not the classic you thought. It's only Tuesday!

Rick Osentoski-USA TODAY Sports

(salty language ahead. It's Biggie, c'mon)

Fam, you know wha I'm sayin? (No doubt man)
The motherfuckin shit just get me so motherfuckin mad cause
You know, that was my nigga, you know, and like
I had just got the nigga 5-star and shit (yeah)
I knew the guy was bout to go down
And my man was like hypin me bout everywhere we go, me and O-Line
(Pluggin it) Me and O-Line be together
And the nigga be like "Watch, I'm tellin you when my line get on
It's gonna be some shit; we ain't gonna have to sell this shit
No mo', I'm tellin you" (Aight?)
And the nigga just got moked out like that man (Tch)
That shit fucked me up man
(That shit fucked a whole lot of niggas up man)
Yo man, I loved that nigga O-Line too (say word)
That was my motherfuckin heart

Yeah, dedicatin this to my nigga O-Line

We miss you nigga
Goin out to all the niggas that got sacked in the struggle
Word up, shit is real on the field
You know, sparkin blunts to all you niggas
Word up

Each and every day
The daydreams of how we used to be
See your family
And that line's lookin just like you
Why'd you go away
I've been missin you lately
Tell me what you're goin through, oh yeah

I remember 'cruiting three bricks of straight flour
Got my man a beat down to the off tackle power
He didn't care, hit the league in a half hour
Got some Backus and Hutch, rained on competition like a shower
Got the coke cooked up, a crackhead Molk
In ninety-seven, when Jansen ruled, all the folk
A 38, a lot of mouth, was our only weapon
We was king till the DL's crept in
And now I'm missin em

Ooh, I'm missin you
Tell me why the road turns, why it turns
Ooh, I'm missin you
Nah nah nah nah nah, oh tell me why why why why

We work all week, Saturdays we played the movies
We blocked pancakes, our girls rocked doobies
Made a killin', even though the DL's knew me
Eventually, you know they try to chop block me, fuck it
Fed up, my nigga wanted to take it down South
Sick of blitzes comin, sick of throwin fists in his mouth
Gave em half my paper, told 'em go that route
Few months, he got his knee blown out
Now I'm stressed
His baby's mother, she trippin, blamin me
And his older brothers, understand, the game it be
Kinda topsy turvy; you win some, you lose some
Damn, they lost a brother - they mother lost a son
Fuck, why my nigga couldn't stay in Ann Arbor?
I'm a thug, but I swear for three days I cried
I'd, look in the sky and ask God why
Can't look their baby girls in the eye
Damn I'm missin' them