“Crank it.”

Biggie was in the deck, cranked up as far as the tiny stock speakers in my shitty Saturn could handle. Travis messed with the tiny EQ notches on the face of the cheap stereo. I'd just installed it last week, but didn't have enough cash for new speakers.

“Yo you gotta hear Biggie UP,” Travis moaned. We were driving home together from college, back to Florida from South Carolina. We didn't really know each other.

Not before the crash, anyway.