Perhaps I'm getting old, but it just doesn't seem like 10 years since The Notorious B.I.G. was senselessly murdered in Los Angeles. Rap music has changed dramatically in the decade since, just as it did in the previous decade, though it's debatable whether that change has been for the better or the worse.

When Biggie came on the scene in the mid-1990s, hip-hop was in a very different place. G-funk was the flavor of the day, with Dre, Snoop, Tupac, and other Westside players running things on the radio. The Wu-Tang movement was strong but still growing, Nas had just dropped his classic debut, and Jay-Z was readying his own first album, but many future fans were still sleeping on their greatness. UGK, Eightball & MJG, and the Geto Boys were doing their things, but Master P and Cash Money had yet to explode nationally, and a lot of heads still looked down on anything from the South.

Bootlegging was still an issue, but it wasn't like today, when you can listen to, distribute, and clown entire albums several months before their release date. Most of the early haters who derided rap music as a "passing fad" began to realize that perhaps it was here to stay, and, although hip-hop was creeping into marketing campaigns and mainstream advertising (remember the old Sprite ads?), it wasn't like today, when it's used to pitch everything from diapers to furniture. MTV still showed videos, VH-1 was still strictly mom-rock, and now-ubiquitous terms like "Google" and "MySpace" did not even exist.

Back in this more innocent time, a young rapper emerged from the ever-grimy streets of Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn, who would change the whole game. On first glance, you would probably not think "superstar." Biggie Smalls was fat and kind of awkward looking, with the whole lazy-eye thing, an imposing dude who clearly would not fit in among the current crop of oiled-up, personal-trainer-rocking matinee idol types. What set him apart from everybody else was his immense lyrical ability and a self-assured but extremely likable persona. He had charisma for days, and once he got on the mic, it was a wrap.

Like so many emcees before and after him, he was initially a hustler, a small-time drug dealer, pitching his product on the corner in BK. Despite his admitted shyness, he made tapes for fun in the basement of a cat named 50 Grand. Recognizing his raw talent, Grand passed the tapes off to DJ Mister Cee, who began recording with Big. Soon enough, young Uptown producer/budding mogul Puff Daddy got involved and started lining up sessions, getting him to record early joints like "Party and Bullshit" (from the Who's The Man? soundtrack), "Real Love" with Mary J. Blige (for which he received a mere $500), and the all-star posse cut "Flava in Ya Ear" (Remix). Puffy signed him on as the second artist on his new label Bad Boy (Craig Mack was the first), convinced him to get out of the drug trade, and went to work crafting his debut album.

In the second half of 1994, Ready to Die blew up huge, thanks largely to the success of mellower, radio-friendly material like "Big Poppa" and "Juicy." Big was never a fan of the latter track, even though it was his first big hit. Puffy had to stress to him the importance of songs for the ladies/clubs and convince him that he couldn't just come with all hardcore street sagas. Before long, the album was quadruple platinum, and The Notorious B.I.G. was one of the most popular and beloved emcees the world had ever seen. He was tough, but not a tough guy. He was smooth, but never soft. His vivid storytelling and rags-to-riches image resonated with hood kids and suburbanites alike, and his beats -- from DJ Premier, Lord Finesse, and Easy Mo Bee, among others -- were exceptional. The following year, he was nominated for four Source awards at the magazine's inaugural event; he won them all.

Despite his phenomenal success, Biggie remained extremely loyal to his friends in Brooklyn. Like many other rappers, he swiftly put on his crew, securing a record deal for Junior M.A.F.I.A. and working with them on their 1995 debut, Conspiracy. Though the group officially included nine members, one of them really stood out, a sassy shorty named Lil' Kim. The album's biggest hit, "Get Money," featured Big and Kim trading sex and cash verses and led to a solo deal for the Queen Bee. The two worked together extensively on her Hard Core album, released in '96, and scored several more hits, like "Crush on You" and "No Time."

By now, Biggie was recording his highly anticipated follow-up, Life After Death, an ambitious double album that teamed him with a wide assortment of other artists and producers, including RZA, Jay-Z, R. Kelly, Mase, and Bone Thugs. He considered it some of the best work of his career and was eager to show the world how much he'd grown as an emcee.

Away from the music, however, things were tense. His former friend Tupac blamed him and Puffy for the Quad Studios shooting, calling them out and bragging about sleeping with his wife, Faith Evans, on the scathing diss track "Hit Em Up." Both Suge Knight and Snoop Dogg sounded off against Bad Boy at the 1996 Source Awards, and the media helped fan the flames, with their constant sensationalistic talk of an "East Coast vs. West Coast Rap War!" He also came into some legal troubles, thanks to a weed and guns bust, and smashed his leg up in a bad car accident. Later that year, 'Pac was murdered in Las Vegas, and Biggie was increasingly paranoid that someone was trying to kill him.

On March 9, 1997, those fears became a reality when The Black Frank White was gunned down while leaving a Soul Train Music Awards after-party in downtown LA. Life After Death hit stores a few weeks later and rocketed up the charts, debuting at number one with almost 700,000 first-week sales. It spawned the gigantic singles "Hypnotize" and "Mo Money Mo Problems" and within two years had gone 10X platinum. With Biggie passed away, Puffy went from producer/hypeman to megastar in his own right, thanks largely to his Grammy-winning (and ghostwritten) tribute song "I'll Be Missing You."

Was Biggie the best who ever did it? With only two albums recorded during his short lifetime, that's hard to say. Was he the king of New York? That much is indisputable. Since his passing, countless rappers have tried to claim the crown -- Jay-Z and Nas have come the closest -- but there has never been another totally convincing, undeniable victor. If B.I.G. were alive, would he still be making hits? Would he have fallen off? Or would he just be chilling in the shade, surrounded by friends and family, counting his millions? A few things are certain; Shyne and Guerilla Black would have never gotten record deals, and Diddy would probably have a considerably lower profile and smaller bank account.

Though Biggie's murder may never be solved, his music will be with us forever, providing a soundtrack for millions of heads around the world and inspiring future generations of emcees. Whether you're a fan from way back or are just getting hip to him now, pour some out for Big Poppa, and listen to his classic material in remembrance of a one-of-a-kind artist who was taken away from us far too soon. B.I.G. R.I.P.