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The Notorious B.I.G. had it all without having much. He wasn't chiseled to the bone like LL Cool J (he even said it himself that he was "young, black and ugly as ever"), he spoke with a hint of a lisp, his music was filled with tales of drug sales and the cold hearted conditions of the streets, yet somehow Christopher Wallace connected with millions across the globe. Women were attracted to his conflicting styles of thug dreams and champagne wishes, men dug his raw, unapologetic view on street life and more importantly, as time went on and people gained a better understanding of Biggie's upbringing, Hip-Hop fans the world over respected his vivid storytelling skills even more. There is some debate as to the conditions Biggie grew up in. His mother denies much of the claims he made in his songs. But the thing is it doesn't matter. When Biggie rapped, he put you on the corner with him (whether he was really there or not), he took you to the club, he made you feel like you were rich as f*** without a care in the world even though you might be some kid in Grade 9 math class zonin' out. A special talent is called a gift for a reason. Because not everyone has them and they are passed upon people from a higher power with the hopes of sharing them with the world. The Notorious B.I.G. had the gift of wordplay and an ability to connect with the listener that MC's of today couldn't dream of in their sleep. You LOVED Biggie. But you know what the crazy thing is? In some weird way, you thought Biggie LOVED you right back because he spoke about and on the things you cared about, money, women, girls, drugs, partying with such vivid descriptions that you could stay at home and listen to "Ready To Die" and probably have as much fun as you would if you were out doing the things B.I.G. rapped about.

"I get all different kids of responses, but for the most part people give respect. It makes me feel good that he did something so well that people feel like he was the greatest of all time. I know I'll be the greatest at something too," she says.

"I'd ask him so much [if he were alive]. I can't say just one thing. I'd tell him everything that's going on in my life and just tell him, 'I love you, I love you, I love you'. I'd be completely different if he was still here. I'd be spoiled probably," she told SOHH. "I don't think he'd still be rapping. Maybe still ghostwriting or doing movies, but 10 years is a long time and I think he'd be doing something else."

TK: Are there any of Biggie's songs that affect you emotionally ?

CEE: One song that really, really gets to me is 'You're Nobody (Til Somebody Kills You)' you know when I hear it I get a lump in my throat. You dont hear that record too often, but when I do its a true testament to not only Biggie himself but everyday people, people tend not to care about you until your gone. We don't say I love you enough and we dont share love enough amongst each other. We don't express how much we care about each other enough until someone is gone.

TK: What do you think Big would be sounding like today if he was still around ?

CEE: People really don't give Big the credit for what he did while he was here, Big made it cool for New York Hip Hop fans to accept stuff that wasn't from New York. When Biggie did 'Notorious Thugs' that was a huge risk. We was already embracing the West Coast, but the South and the Midwest wasn't really being heard in New York until Big did that record. That record just opened the floodgates. I think he would have done more of those types of records, fusing other musical genres and taking chances. I don't know if it would have been Pop or Rock, it would definitely have been Reggae, I know that, with Big having a Jamaican background I think he would definitely have explored that Caribbean side.

I had actually met Biggie through 2pac at a music convention in 1993. 'Pac introduced him to me as his nephew and boasted of his rhyme skills. He even spoke of them recording an album and touring together.

Imagine that.

On Biggie’s shift in production:

“You're talking about a good friend, somebody who I really truly respected and who truly respected me. Biggie said to the world, “If you wanna f**k with me, you've gotta get past D-Dot, Stevie J and Nashiem first.” That's why when you look at Life After Death, Clark Kent only had one. As much as B.I.G loved Clark, Clark only had one beat on there. Premo had two because B.I.G loved Premo. And we had the rest. Kaygee had one, RZA had one, Havoc had one. D-Dot, had four or five, Nasheem has four or five, Stevie J had four or five. B.I.G told the world, “I've got my squad. They’re custom for me.” That's why to this day, we only put out one more album, because B.I.G didn't have a lot of rhymes sittin'. ??B.I.G heard the beat, he wrote to the beat. It wasn't like he would just write and write and write like Tupac, just having rhymes put to any beat. So when he died, it was like taking a sewing machine from a seamstress or a drill from a carpenter. It was one of my tools taken away, that I also used to express myself. It's really hard to find artists out there that have that drive and that creativity that B.I.G had. God Bless the dead. I really miss him.” – D. Dot

No artist can ever equate to Biggie, because the Hip-Hop audience will never trust another artist the way they trusted him. The leaps that Biggie took between 1994 and 1997 would be unforgivable in today’s climate. The artist went from the king of the corner freestyle flow to somebody with “mo’ money, and mo’ problems.” In many ways, “Suicidal Thoughts” marked the death of Biggie Smalls. Moments later, the Frank White character was born, and fully developed by 1997. Despite its Doug E. Fresh and Slick Rick interpolation, “Hypnotize” lacked the populist views of “Juicy.” Lyrics were pushed aside for beat and chorus, following a song that had one of the most memorable and yet minimalist choruses ever written. Still when hardcore rappers like Nas, Busta Rhymes, and 50 Cent have made this leap for the club, after rugged rap beginnings, there’s always been a backlash. Some might say that there would have been different critical responses had Biggie not died shortly before Life After Death released. I highly doubt that. Not even Tupac was ever anticipated like Biggie – for the simple fact that Tupac never made fans wait as long.

Unlike Tupac, B.I.G. did not have an extensive catalog of material to choose from. We wouldn't be able to hear the signature “uhhh” at the beginning of a newly unreleased song years later. Maybe B.I.G. should've took his prophetic paranoia of being targeted by assassins, showcased brilliantly on my favorite Biggie record “My Downfall” ("Unbelievable" finishes a close second), as a sign to record as much as possible. Even then you could hear Puffy's unabashed swagger pour out of the speakers. The brazen maniacal rants on the aforementioned “Downfall” show Diddy at his arrogant best: (“we gonna be here from now til the year 3000 b******…”). Who wouldn't brag knowing you had someone like B.I.G. in your corner? Bad Boy Entertainment was on top for a reason.

But, of course, the real ultimate loss of Biggie is that we lost a human being who was a son, brother, friend and father who meant so much to so many people, personally. We can always play the music that he left behind, but we can never bring Christopher Wallace back, as much as we all may want to.

But we can all be content with studying the beauty of his life, weigh the good and not-so good and the near-perfection of his talent that he so generously gave to the world. What a wonderful lesson his life provides for us all.