2Pac - All Eyez on Me

The hardest opener in his catalog and the mission statement for everything that follows. Daz builds a slow-rolling threat out of a bassline and a piano stab, and Pac rides it with the controlled rage of someone who just got out and has no intention of going back. The verse about enemies watching him is specific enough to feel personal, and the aggression never tips into performance. This is the track that set the standard the rest of the album could not maintain.

A posse cut that works as long as Snoop is on it and sags when he is not. The beat is a smooth G-funk glide, and the hook is catchy enough to carry the concept, but the verses about women and partying are thin even by the standards of the genre. Nate Dogg sings the bridge with the same detachment he brought to every Death Row hook in 1996. Solid filler.

Another track about women as problems, this time with a conspiracy angle that does not add enough to justify the five minutes. Daz's production is clean but unremarkable, and the writing never rises above the obvious. Skippable.

Method Man and Redman bring the energy that makes this one of the stronger posse cuts on the album. The Dogg Pound verses are competent, and Pac sounds more engaged than he does on the other party tracks, but the track is still built on a concept he had already exhausted. The East-West collaboration is the selling point, and it delivers just enough to make the track worth keeping.

The smoothest and most radio-friendly thing here, built on a Johnny J beat that could have been a quiet storm ballad. K-Ci & JoJo sing the hook with enough soul to make the track feel like more than a sex jam, and Pac's verses are detailed enough to avoid cliche. The track works because it does not try to be hard, and the production gives it room to breathe. One of the best examples of his ability to switch modes without losing credibility.

Pac and Snoop trading verses over a Daz beat that sounds like a slow-motion car chase. The chemistry is undeniable, and both of them are sharp enough to make the back-and-forth feel like a conversation rather than two separate performances. The parody skit at the beginning is heavy-handed, but the track itself is one of the tightest collaborations in the Death Row catalog. Essential.

The darkest and slowest track on the first disc, with DeVante Swing building a minor-key dirge that gives Pac room to reflect on violence and survival. The writing is more thoughtful than most of the album, and the six-minute runtime is earned by the mood rather than by repetition. One of the few tracks where the introspection of Me Against the World bleeds through.

DJ Quik's production is the highlight, a live-band funk arrangement that swings harder than anything else on the album. Pac's verse about paranoia and betrayal is sharp, and the Richard Pryor sample adds a layer of dark humor that the rest of the album lacks. The track feels like an outlier in the best way, proof that the album could have pushed further if it had wanted to.

A eulogy for friends who died young, written with the knowledge that he might be next. Johnny J's production is mournful without being overdone, and the hook is one of the most memorable on the album. The verse about pouring out liquor and visiting graves is specific enough to avoid sentimentality, and the track works as a counterweight to the celebration elsewhere. One of the best-written songs here.

An attempt to defend the thug life while admitting its costs, with a Rappin' 4-Tay feature that adds a different voice without derailing the track. The production is solid, and the writing is more conflicted than most of the album, but the resolution is too easy. The track works as a bridge between the party songs and the reflective cuts, even if it does not fully commit to either.

A posse cut with C-Bo and Dramacydal that tries to build tension through competing narratives but ends up feeling like three separate verses that happen to be on the same beat. The production from Mike Mosley and Rick Rock is clean, but the track does not add up to more than the sum of its parts. Solid but forgettable.

The biggest single of his career and the track that defined the Death Row sound for the mainstream. Dr. Dre's production is a bassline and a Roger Troutman vocoder hook, and Pac's verse is celebratory without being shallow. The remix tightens the original and adds more energy, and the track works as both a banger and a statement of arrival. Essential, even if it has been overplayed to the point of diminishing returns.

The most emotionally generous track on the album, a goodbye to a friend who chose a different path. Daz's production is understated, and Danny Boy's sung hook adds warmth without overpowering the sentiment. The verse about watching someone leave the streets for religion is one of the best things Pac ever wrote, specific and empathetic in a way that the rest of the album rarely attempts. A perfect closer for the first disc.

A phone-sex skit stretched to five minutes with Danny Boy singing the hook. The concept is tired, and the execution does nothing to elevate it. Filler.

Dr. Dre's second production and another showcase for what the album could have been with tighter curation. George Clinton adds a layer of funk that makes the track feel lived-in, and Pac's verse about surveillance and enemies is sharp enough to justify the paranoia. One of the strongest tracks on the second disc.

A cautionary tale about a young kid trying to live the life, with Johnny J providing a mid-tempo beat that gives the story room to unfold. The writing is more detailed than most of the album, and the track works as a moment of reflection in the middle of the second disc. Underrated.

A solid banger with Bobby Bobcat production that does not stand out in a crowded field. The hook is catchy, and the verse is competent, but the track does not add anything new. Filler that works in the moment.

An attempt at a morality tale about a woman who made bad choices, with Jewell singing the hook in place of the originally recorded Faith Evans vocal. The concept is condescending, and the execution does not do enough to complicate the judgment. Skippable.

A posse cut with the Outlaw Immortalz that tries to build momentum through repetition but ends up feeling like a cypher that went on too long. DJ Pooh's production is competent, but the track does not justify its five-minute runtime. Filler.

A mid-tempo cruise with Dramacydal and Jewell that works as background music but does not demand attention. The production is smooth, and the hook is serviceable, but the track is another example of Pac writing on autopilot. Forgettable.

One of the stronger tracks on the second disc, with Johnny J providing a beat that matches the swagger of the title. The verses from Danny Boy, Syke, and CPO add texture without overwhelming the track, and Pac's verse about enemies and success is sharp enough to keep the energy up. Solid.

A five-minute track about leaving women behind, with Kurupt and Syke adding verses that do not add much. The production is unremarkable, and the concept is tired. Filler.

A love song with Richie Rich on the hook, attempting to soften the edge with a promise of loyalty. The production is smooth, but the writing does not rise above the obvious. Skippable.

The title track and a statement of the album's thesis: everyone is watching, and he is going to give them a show. The production is solid, and the verse about surveillance and fame is one of the more focused moments on the second disc. The track earns its place even if it does not rank among the best.

A posse cut with Michel'le, Mutah, and Storm that tries to build a narrative about street life but ends up repeating the same ideas as a dozen other tracks. The production is competent, but the track does not justify its five-minute runtime. Filler.

The best posse cut on the second disc, with E-40, B-Legit, C-Bo, and Richie Rich all bringing regional flavor that makes the track feel like a West Coast summit. The production from Mike Mosley and Rick Rock is clean, and every verse holds its own. One of the few tracks on the second half that earns its length.

The closer, with production from Quincy Jones III that tries to end the album on a smooth note. The track is fine, but it feels like an afterthought rather than a conclusion, and the album would have been stronger ending with I Ain't Mad at Cha. Forgettable.