Queen Bee

March 2003 (1)

It was the day of the Oscars and Lose Yourself actually somehow got nominated for Best Original Song. I was excited, but I was also hella fuckin' confused? How in the fuck did I  get nominated? Who allowed this shit to happen? 'Cause I'm pretty fuckin' sure whoever did is definitely gettin' fired if I win. I know for a fact those type of award shows don't like me, the only award show I've ever felt welcomed at is the fuckin' BET awards, and that's only 'cause it's mainly a hip hop award show. Regardless though, I'm feelin' proud as fuck. Even if I don't win, it's crazy to even be nominated for an Oscar. How many other rap artists can say that? Not many, if it all, I don't think at least. 

But still, as exciting as it is, I decided not to go. And in all honesty, it was mainly because of Angel. I'm sick of listenin' to her bitch at me nonstop whenever I gotta leave to go to L.A., so if I didn't have to go, I decided it'd be better to just avoid that fight all together. It's disappointing, but you know what? The likelihood of me winning is slim to fuckin' none, so is there really much point in me going anyway? Probably not. So, if ya can't beat 'em, just sit at home and be a miserable bitch with 'em, right? Or, wait. Did I fuck that up?

Making my way down the stairs, I could hear as Angel was feeding Des breakfast, and he seemed to be trying his best to say 'milk'. Turning the corner, I hoped to god she had made something for me. I don't know why, but I've been so fucking hungry recently, it almost feels like I'm never really full. "Yo." I said, jutting my chin out towards them, my eyes landing on a completely empty island and stove. "Ya ain't make me anything?" My voice turned confused. She pretty much always makes me breakfast. And if she's makin' something for Des, it's not that much harder to just add something for me?

"There's cereal." She stated, keeping her attention on tearing up little pieces of pancake for Des to easily grasp. Rolling my eyes, I headed over to the pantry "Hey, actually." She brought her gaze towards me. "I was wonderin' if you could maybe take Des into the studio with ya today?" 

My brows furrowed as I poured my Cheerios into a bowl. "Why?"  

"'Cause the girls are with Kim, and I was thinkin' if ya could take him I might be able to finally start workin' today." 

"Well I gotta work too, Angel." My voice turned harsh. 

"Yeah, but you've done it before." 

"Yeah, but I ain't get nothin' done those entire three days." 

"Marshall, please-" 

"Nah, Angel, I ain't doin' it. Especially not when ya springin' this on me last minute. We're doin' shit for Obie's album today, I gotta give him my full attention. It ain't my recordin' session." I said, almost unintelligibly thanks to my mouth full of cheerios. 

"You're his dad!" She yelled desperately. 

"Yeah, and you're his mom!" I yelled back. 

Shaking her head, she snatched the plate that once held the fluffy and perfectly round pancakes off of the table and began marching towards the sink. "Then why the fuck am I even with you?" She muttered to herself from beside me. 

Snapping my neck towards her, my rage filled eyes began burning a hole into the side of her head. "What was that?" 

"I said then why the fuck am I even with you?!" She yelled, meeting my eyes with her challenging ones. 

Scoffing, I dropped my spoon into my half eaten bowl of cereal. "I don't know. But if ya figure it out gimme a call 'cause I've been wonderin' the same fuckin' thing." Grabbing my wallet, I stuffed it deep into my pockets and turned on my heel. As I stomped towards the front door, I could still hear her yellin' somethin' at me, but deciding to not give her the satisfaction, I just left.