How’s heaven? Life is still stressful as fuck down here. It’s a struggle everyday and I miss you, bro. Last week, I came across a blue CD you burned for me. I fixated on the words you wrote in black permanent marker: “Cam’ron: Purple Haze.” The album brought back so many memories: “You ready? Roll that shit. Light that shit. Now smoke that shit.”
I wish I can turn back the hands of time when we were young, broke, and didn’t give a fuck. I have been relistening to the album every morning on my commute to work. “Get Down” takes me down the memory lane when Cam rhymed, “That’s my man, anytime I holler, holler with me / We shared chicken sandwiches—they were dollar-fifty.” I still remember like it was yesterday when we shared fried chickens and a 40 Olde E. I reminisce on our late-night cruising and blasting Purple Haze with the bass vibrating on our backs. We cracked up on Cam’s misogynistic lyricism: “Your budget on my neck, your spouse on my dick / Posters on the wall, posted on my balls.” It’s definitely cringe-worthy now, but it was hilarious in 2004. Back then, I didn’t pay much attention to Cam’s lyrical content. I was more interested in his infectious flow and his clear enunciation.
I wish you were still here, man. I am sorry for the fallout. I should have stayed connected. I wanted to get together to clear things up and rekindle our friendship, but I kept pushing it back. I thought we still had plenty of time. I was devastated when you unexpectedly left this world. I know you’re in a better place now. Save a space for me in heaven. I’ll see you when I get there.