Dear mama, yo baby boys doing fine tell the homies I'm in heaven and they aint got hoods.

All good niggers, all the niggers who change the world, die in violence. They don't die in regular ways.

Everybody raps. We rap to make money. We do business. Ain't no other record company out there that sold as many records as we did.

Instead of of being so metaphorical with the rhyme, I was encouraged to go straight at it and hit it dead on and not waste time trying to cover things.

I wonder if heaven got a ghetto?

Goin insane, never die, live eternal, who shall I fear?

Maybe in time you'll understand only God can save us.