Pac 

Didn’t come from much yet he ​succeeded, 

Had all the money, fame, girls, but that ain what he ​needed 

Just a youngin’ Pac had big goals, 

Beef created a fighter out of a lover seemed like he lost his soul. 

Rapped, and spit bars to ​‘Hail Mary”  

The whole hood seemed to weigh on his shoulders, too much to carry. 

LA was the scene, ​Pac ​was ride or die, unafraid of death, 

The thug life that made him, would also lay him to rest. 

Behind the gangster was​ ​a man with a smile that was warm 

Media portrayed him as a felon, 

Yet when he was gone all of LA’s hearts were torn.  

His mama, an og Black Panther, full of grace  

In his music she was heard, ​Pac t​ ackled issues of race. 

The makaveli he was called, he grew up in poverty 

He cared for his people, he prayed for their liberty. 

Pac ​can you hear us from down here?  

You see our eyes? 

You tried for your people, but still the hood cries.