"They Reminisce Over You (T.R.O.Y.)" (Pete Rock & CL Smooth)

My favorite hip-hop album of all time is Mecca and the Soul Brother (1992).  The record is the perfect specimen of intelligent lyrics and creative production coming together to create something timeless that transcends genre.  CL Smooth's flows are as natural as breath, while the inimitable Pete Rock's production makes the familiar fresh and the obscure familiar.  That's true of every song, verse, bridge, intro, and outro on the entire album.
But my favorite cut (and my favorite hip-hop single of all time) is the reverent and profound "They Reminisce Over You (T.R.O.Y.)."
I first heard the song late one night while channel surfing in spring 1992.  I wasn't sleeping too well back in those days because my dad kept having these Parkinson's-related episodes, where he'd wake up in the middle of the night, freaking out because he couldn't move or breathe properly.  That year, there was a 6-month stretch where my mom and I were loading him in the car at least once every 10 days to take him to the emergency room.
The first few times, I went with them to the hospital and tried to sleep in the waiting area, which was nearly impossible.  As you might imagine, getting ready for school the next morning was a bitch, and after getting reprimanded for being late to school a number of times, my mom decided that, for all future incidents, I should stay home and rest.
Anyway, I first saw the video for "They Reminisce Over You" late one night, a few days after one of my dad's episodes.  (I've found that, after a jarring event like that, you often don't feel the full effects mentally and physically until a few days later.)  I was exhausted but couldn't shut off my brain, so I wound up watching a broadcast of Yo! MTV Raps.  In the middle of a video block, hosts Ed Lover and Doctor Dré started telling a story, which I wasn't following too well, that somehow involved Salt-N-Pepa and Rock's cousin, Heavy D. (RIP).  From the somber tone, I could tell they were talking about someone's passing, which was even more obvious as soon as the video started to roll.  What I witnessed was a heartfelt, cinematic eulogy set to one of most haunting jazz breaks I'd ever heard.
The story behind the song, as Rock recounted in a 2011 interview with Complex magazine, is that his childhood friend, Troy "Trouble T-Roy" Dixon, had been a dancer/rapper with Heavy D. & The Boyz, who were touring in 1990 with Kid 'n Play and Salt-N-Pepa.  After a show in Indianapolis, Dixon was having fun and clowning around, when he slipped from an elevated ramp and fell 20 feet to his death.  His sudden passing devastated his family and friends, but it hit Rock especially hard and caused him to fall into a lengthy depression.
In short, he and CL Smooth created the song as a way to heal.
"CL came up with the lyrics even before I came up with the beat…The beat made me emotional so I figured it would work.  When the lyrics came together with the music, that was the match made in heaven.  Thank God it matched the way it did.  It was a great outcome."
The song resonated with me because I found CL Smooth's lyrics comforting at a time of turmoil in my own life.  He was rapping about his own family persevering through less than ideal circumstances, and it made me feel that I could persevere, too.  
But, more than anything, it was Pete Rock's music that reached right into my soul.  His brilliant treatment of jazzman Tom Scott's cover of Jefferson Airplane's "Today" is the most beautiful, sincere sample in all of hip-hop.  The soulful saxophone, the choir backing vocals drenched in reverb, and that Motown-meets-acid jazz beat were/are capable of suspending reality for me, if even for 4 minutes.