![]() It was after fabricating a creative project using lyrics from Biggie’s “Get Money” and “Juicy” that I took a bonafide interest in writing. "Why don't I just write some of his lyrics down? It'll take up a few pages," I said to myself. So what did I do? I turned to my man Biggie for some help. ![]() That was cool after all.Ī project of some sort came along and I had to throw together some poems, journal entries, and some other creative shit for a grade. This meant I would have more time between classes to go to the parking lot with friends to ever so sneakily smoke some cigs. I would stare at the clock and wonder if because the second hand was continuously moving, instead of moving notch by notch for each second, that the class was actually shorter than advertised. Unfortunately, I was too busy with other things to pay attention. The sad thing is she had some great things to teach. What the hell does Biggie have to do with anything? Well, in that class, I usually screwed off the whole time and had fun with the sweet and elderly Mrs. My response "No way it was Frosh or Soph." Seems like that will remain unsolved just like Biggie's murder. McConnell's Creative Writing class in high school. In the interest of historical accuracy I enlisted the help of my long time friend Danielle Lombardo (then Danielle Marques) to determine what grade we had Mrs. "Biggie made me who I am today" is not entirely accurate.
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