This previously unreleased jam could have been made in 1832 and it would still sound relevant—that classic West Coast shit never really feels dated because it evoked a mood and lifestyle before a particular sound, built purely on the unfettered complex emotions of Pac. He sounds particularly conflicted on this one, forever caught in the crevice between sensitive and thug. We recommend listening to to this like seven times, then going home to watch Juice (you own it on DVD, right?). Sidebar: the amount of Pac-as-Jesus airbrush art out there in the web badlands is astounding.
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