When Tupac died in 1996, it shook a lot of people, but for Treach, it broke something deep inside. This wasn’t just a friend or collaborator. Pac was like family.
They came up together from the very bottom, just two kids grinding in the shadows. Treach was rolling with Queen Latifah’s camp, Pac with Digital Underground. Before the stages and cameras, they were carrying bags and setting up shows. Treach would always say, “Pac had that fire even then, you knew he was gonna be a star.”
So when Pac was murdered in Vegas, Treach didn’t head to the studio right away. He sat in silence, looked at old photos, played Pac’s verses over and over. He didn’t want to make a “song” he wanted to write a letter. Something that would speak to Pac’s spirit. That’s how “Mourn You Til I Join You” was born.
This wasn’t about charts or radio plays. It was Treach pouring every memory and every ounce of pain into a mic. He didn’t hold back, he rapped about the wild nights, the prison letters, the phone calls full of laughter and rage. He talked about seeing Pac laid out in a casket, and the gut-punch of losing someone who was supposed to be untouchable.
“Even all the prayers can't bring you back to us / I’ll mourn you til I join you ‘cause I’ll keep in touch.”
That wasn’t just a hook. That was a promise.
Every June 16th, Treach still celebrates Pac’s birthday. He plays his music loud, tells stories, laughs, and sometimes tears up. That’s the kind of bond they had—ride or die in life, and still loyal in death.
So when you listen to “Mourn You Til I Join You,” you're not hearing a rapper rap. You're hearing a man speak to his brother. One last message across the divide. And for Treach, it’ll never be the last.
When Tupac died in 1996, it shook a lot of people, but for Treach, it broke something deep inside. This wasn’t just a friend or collaborator. Pac was like family.
They came up together from the very bottom, just two kids grinding in the shadows. Treach was rolling with Queen Latifah’s camp, Pac with Digital Underground. Before the stages and cameras, they were carrying bags and setting up shows. Treach would always say, “Pac had that fire even then, you knew he was gonna be a star.”
So when Pac was murdered in Vegas, Treach didn’t head to the studio right away. He sat in silence, looked at old photos, played Pac’s verses over and over. He didn’t want to make a “song” he wanted to write a letter. Something that would speak to Pac’s spirit. That’s how “Mourn You Til I Join You” was born.
This wasn’t about charts or radio plays. It was Treach pouring every memory and every ounce of pain into a mic. He didn’t hold back, he rapped about the wild nights, the prison letters, the phone calls full of laughter and rage. He talked about seeing Pac laid out in a casket, and the gut-punch of losing someone who was supposed to be untouchable.
“Even all the prayers can't bring you back to us / I’ll mourn you til I join you ‘cause I’ll keep in touch.”
That wasn’t just a hook. That was a promise.
Every June 16th, Treach still celebrates Pac’s birthday. He plays his music loud, tells stories, laughs, and sometimes tears up. That’s the kind of bond they had—ride or die in life, and still loyal in death.
So when you listen to “Mourn You Til I Join You,” you're not hearing a rapper rap. You're hearing a man speak to his brother. One last message across the divide. And for Treach, it’ll never be the last.
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