So my platoon got caught in a firefight last July and one of my friends died in it. I'm not sure if I mentioned it. His mother sent out some care packages to us, and inside were a few letters his family had written. They picked up some of his art work to use as covers. I knew he liked to doodle, but holy shit. You'd think you know someone pretty well after four years. Guess not.
And it made my day to see some of the things he hid from us.
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Woke up with fifty enemies plottin' my death
All fifty seein' visions of me shot in the chest
Couldn't rest, nah nigga I was stressed
Had me creepin' 'round corners, homie sleepin' in my vest.
-Breathin, Tupac.
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