Queen Bee

November 2006 (2)

"Okay, baby, so remember, this is the last time you're goin' to daddy's for the whole month before you start school, yeah?" I gently reminded Des as I helped him pack up a few things before my dad would be here to take him to the airport.  

He nodded. "Okay, mommy." 

"But you still gon' see him, it's just gon' be a lil' different, okay?" 

"Yeah, I know." He stated, his voice turning soft and quiet. 

Noticing how sad he sounded, I turned myself around, quickly kneeling down to his level. "Hey." My tone turned comforting as I gently placed both of my palms along his chubby cheeks.  "Don't be sad, baby. There's nothin' to be sad 'bout. You still get to see all of 'em, it's just gon' look a lil' different now that you're in school, okay?" Dropping my hands towards my thighs, he nodded once more. "Instead of every other month, it's every other weekend, so actually you get to see 'em more often!" I smiled, trying my best to give off as much positive energy as possible. 

"But the weekend is two days and a month is thirty." 

My once large smile melted into a soft, empathetic one. "Ah, whatchu even need to go to school for? You're too smart for them already." Returning my smile with a big, toothy grin, he giggled. I laughed with him. "Yeah? You like that one?" He nodded, that same laughter continuing to erupt from us both. "Aight, good, baby. Go zip up your backup, grandpa's gonna be here soon." Placing a quick kiss against his cheek, I quickly stood up as he ran back over to his backpack that was perched on the bed. Just as I was making my way out of his room, I heard as the doorbell began to chime all throughout the house. "Oh, speakin' of which-" 

"GRANDPA!" Des squealed as loud as humanly possible, ripping his half-zipped backpack from his bed before whizzing past me, directly towards the door. Laughing, I trailed only a few seconds behind him just before he whipped open the door. "GRANDPA!" He screeched once more, crashing his entire body into the front of my dad's shins before wrapping both of his arms around them. 

My dad laughed, bending down as he attempted to hug him back. "Hey my lil' man, how you doin'?" 

"Good! I'm excited to go to daddy's!" 

"Are ya? You excited to see your sisters?" 

"Yeah! Yeah!" He happily yelled, jumping up and down as he clapped his tiny hands together. 

My dad laughed once more. "Aight, say bye to your mama first, then we can go." Immediately whipping himself around, I quickly lowered myself to his level once more, just in time for him to come crash his tiny body against mine, throwing his arms around my neck. 

"I love you, mommy!" 

I smiled. "I love you too, baby, have a good flight." Kissing his head, he released his hold. "And be safe!" 

"I will! Bye!" Waving his hand at me, he bolted out of the house and down the stairs before my dad even had enough time to turn around. 

"Thanks, dad. Love you!" Grabbing the door handle, I waited as he made his way down the steps. 

"Love you too, baby, I'll call you when I'm on my way back." 

"Okay, bye!"

"Bye!" Just as his feet touched the pavement, I gently closed the door, quickly turning on my heel as I headed directly for my basement studio. After hearing all of that bullshit Game was spewing a few weeks ago, I tried my best to just let it go. I really did. Marshall gave absolutely zero fucks about it, so I thought maybe it just wasn't that big of a deal after all. Maybe I was just blowing everything out of proportion. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized no, that was some of the most disrespectful shit I've ever heard come out of a mans mouth, even worse than Marshall! And I have no fuckin' idea why Marshall doesn't seem to care, but I'm gonna stand up for myself. And I'm gonna stand up for him, 'cause for whatever reason, he's refusin' to do it right now. 

Running downstairs, I felt confident. More than confident, actually. Aidan had made me this absolutely amazing beat where he took the original beat from Queen Bitch, mixed it a lil', and gave it way more of 2000s sound rather than the heavy 90s influence it had before. I had written the entire thing about a week ago after Des had went to bed one night, but now that he was gone and I was actually able to focus on it, today was the day I was recording. I had even gotten Remy Ma, the only girl from Fat Joe's rap group, Terror Squad, to hop on it with me and she gave me one of the dopest hooks I've ever heard from her! Overall, I just knew this track was about to absolutely annihilate Game, which is exactly what I wanted. 

Firing up my entire soundboard, I quickly ran into the booth with my pad, throwing on my headphones before hitting play on the incredibly familiar beat. 

"If Peter Piper pecked 'em, I bet you Angel duffed 'em/I told you not to touch him, it's not up for discussion!/All my clothes is custom, straight from France/My hands like Mayweather's, all my friends eight and better/I get a lot of money, honey/Queen Bitch, inf-beam bitch/Body a guy for my guy, make you a pussy bitch!/I'm his dream bitch, mean bitch/Take one for the team bitch!"

Pausing the beat on the exact spot where I wanted to start Remy's hook, I took a small swig of the water sitting next to me on the floor, knowing damn well if I wanted to deliver the next verse properly, my mouth couldn't be even remotely dry. Putting it back down, I took one big breath before hitting play on the beat once more.

"I'm rich, I'ma stay that bitch!/You fake ass bitch, you owe an apology, pay that shit!/Spray that fif', the crown, I earned that shit!/'Cause you a clown, and Angel don't play that shit!/See they ain't slick, be talkin' all crazy and shit/And then you see 'em, they be like that they ain't say that shit!/I hate that shit, I can make or break your shit!/See I got options, don't make me weigh them shits/I heard he lay that dick, he ain't even filet the fish/I just met you, how you wanna be my baby that quick?/I'll say it to your face, don't gotta relay that shit!/If Jayceon was Nicole, man, I'ma OJ that prick!/Take that trip, get money, make that lick/Take your pick, that's your set, claim that Aftermath clique!/Homie, you so thirsty, you better obey that shit!/Dre, if that's your dawg, I suggest you go train that bitch!"

With my chest dramatically heaving from a lack of oxygen, I gently tore the headphones from my ears before stopping the beat yet again. Knowing Remy had also sent me a bridge and just some ad libs that I might wanna use, I figured I'd be best to stop there for right now just so I could go mess around with the production and play my verses back, 'cause lord knows I gotta get this shit right. Honestly, not even just for me, but for Marshall too. If he ain't wanna stand up for himself, fine. I will. I ain't never been the type to just take shit lying down, and neither has he! Honestly, that's probably why we are the way we are with each other... But regardless. For whatever reason, that's how he wants to play it right now, and while that's fine with him, it ain't fine with me. So if I gotta go to bat alone, I will. No questions asked.