It wasn’t supposed to turn out this way. Is this what his years of college had prepared him for? Once upon a time they had been three eager college students, ready to go out and conquer the world, armed with their degrees. They thought they were so prepared; they had even created their own list of rules to live by to aid in their success.

It all began one night when they were fucked up, smokin’ bomb-ass weed and drinking Hennessey, and listening to 2Pac. While listening to “Blasphemy” from Makaveli, The Don Killuminati: The 7 Day Theory, the trio heard 2Pac rapping about the rules his father taught him.

“M.O.B., money over bitches,” Travis said. “That’s some deep shit.”

“That’s some true shit,” Jackie added quickly.

“I wonder what the other rules are? He only told us two,” Ronnie said.

“I guess we’ll never know,” Travis said as he hit the blunt and chuffed.

“Why not?” Ronnie asked.

“Cause Tupac is dead, asshole,” Jackie stated flatly and laughed.

“No, he ain’t,” Ronnie said and stood up.

“Yes, he is, Ronnie. I saw the autopsy pictures,” Travis threw in.

“That don’t mean nothing. Pictures can be doctored. My cousin edits film for the networks and he tells me all the time about the wild shit they have him do to put whatever type of spin they want on those images. If they can do it with film, they can do it with stills,” Ronnie argued. He hit the blunt. “If he’s dead, why wasn’t there no funeral?” He too started chuffing.

“’Cause his momma had him cremated,” Jackie explained, taking the blunt from a still chuffing Ronnie.

“Yeah, I know. That’s my whole fuckin’ point. Pac never said anything about crematin’ his ass. He said bury him a G. He said bury him with ammunition, weed and shells. Y’all niggas know that shit just like I do. Pac ain’t dead,” Ronnie stated again.