And no, Brother Trugoy the Dove, no classical iconography for your death. No gunshots, no gangland showdowns, let alone... after all, you and those two other guys were the ones from Long Island who sent us the message of <hippy hop>, suddenly catapulting us from the verbose and harsh sermons of the Old School into the 'Daisy Age.' In short, a new flower power in black style, and how happy we were to actually put some flowers (good ones, of course) in our... uh... you know what I mean...
Instead, a worn-out heart - what a sad banality, you’ll agree - forced you to resign from this Planet.
Thanks for everything, anyway: that record will always remain, because for me, a beautiful one, as beautiful as a bright and cloudless sky, in short, beautifully so in that genre, I have heard very few to this day.