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February 27, 2025
A.I. Generated
Man, when I think about Pac, it ain't just the music, the poetry, or even the struggle that comes to mind first. It's the kindness—the real, raw compassion he had for people, no matter who they were. I remember one time we were walking in L.A., just chillin', and he saw this single mom struggling with her kids outside a grocery store. Without hesitation, he stepped in, helped carry her groceries, gave the kids some money for treats, and told her to “keep pushin’, Queen.” He didn’t care if anyone was watching—it was just who he was. Another time, after a show, instead of going to some flashy afterparty, he pulled up at a youth center, unannounced, and kicked it with the kids. He talked to them about life, about hustling smart, not reckless, about chasing dreams even when the world tries to shut you down. That night, he gave out hundreds of books—Maya Angelou, Malcolm X, Shakespeare—because he knew knowledge was power. Pac had that rare mix of fire and love. He was a warrior, but he was also an angel on Earth—looking out for his people, lifting others up, even when he was carrying the weight of the world himself.
