2pac And Outlawz Still I Rise Album May 2026
The Outlawz (originally known as the Outlaw Immortalz) were in a difficult position. Formed in 1995 after Tupac’s release from prison, the group—including Hussein Fatal, E.D.I. Mean, Young Noble, Napoleon, Kastro, Yaki Kadafi (who also died in 1996), and later Storm—had been 2Pac’s soldiers. They were the battalion that chanted “Thug Life” as a philosophy, not just a slogan. But without Pac, they risked becoming relics.
This opening track sets the tone perfectly. Over a haunting, soulful beat (produced by Trackmasters), 2Pac addresses a child he will never meet. It is introspective, vulnerable, and prophetic. He raps about the traps of the ghetto, the bloodshed of his generation, and his desperate hope for a better future. The Outlawz interject with harmonies and ad-libs, transforming a solo rumination into a communal prayer. It remains the album’s most beautiful moment. 2pac and outlawz still i rise album
This is pure, uncut Outlawz energy. With only a brief appearance by Pac on the chorus and an outro verse, this track belongs to Young Noble, E.D.I. Mean, and Napoleon. It’s gritty, unpolished, and aggressive. For critics who say the Outlawz were merely Pac’s hype men, this track proves they could hold their own on a grimy, bass-heavy instrumental. The Production: A Fragmented Canvas One of the criticisms leveled at Still I Rise is its inconsistent production. Unlike All Eyez on Me , which had a specific sonic identity (Dre, Daz, Johnny "J"), this album is a patchwork. You have contributions from Darryl "Big D" Harper , Kurt "Kobane" Couthon , and even Damizza . The beats range from polished (the Teddy Riley-esque bounce of "Tattoo Tears") to raw demo quality. The Outlawz (originally known as the Outlaw Immortalz)
For fans in the late 1990s, this album was both a gift and a ghost story. It was the sound of a movement trying to keep its leader alive through unused verses, recycled demos, and the fierce loyalty of his chosen family. But beyond the controversy of posthumous releases, Still I Rise stands as a powerful cultural artifact—a document of grief, defiance, and the unshakeable philosophy of rising from the ashes. To understand Still I Rise , you must first understand the state of Hip-Hop in 1999. The East Coast-West Coast rivalry had officially ended—not with a peace treaty, but with two funerals. The Notorious B.I.G. had been dead for nearly three years. Tupac’s mother, Afeni Shakur, was overseeing a mountain of unreleased material, trying to separate commercial gold from unfinished sketches. They were the battalion that chanted “Thug Life”






