The ride was as smooth as can be, but something still didn't feel right. Just before the season started I was cruising down Charlotte's outer belt in Steve Smith's new Porsche Cayenne when the game's most explosive wideout started humming a familiar tune. In my mind I was thinking, "What is that? Tupac? FiddyCent? Terror Squad?"
Smith kept singing, looking straight ahead, watching the road.
No. Wait. Is that? Can't be.
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