King of Queens (a Nas Story)

THIRTEEN

Gia | 9:19pm

"I want you to sing this shit for me, yo." Nas stood behind his friend and producer, Pete. He was known around New York for his talent and ear for sample flips. He flipped a snazzy Jazz record and added mean kicks and bass drums over smooth, melodic keys.

"I'm not singing shit. I'm behind the board, man." Pete said with his forehead in the palm of his hand.

"I promise you don't want me to sing this shit. I sound like the living dead, yo." Nas said into the microphone. The headphones he wore sat on top of his fresh fade. I laughed at him and covered my mouth.

Pete looked at me as I sat on the island that was centered in the middle of the studio. "Tell your man that I'm not singing a damn thing!"

"Hey, this has nothing to do with me." I said to Pete as I raised my hands as high as my shoulders were.

"Baby, listen to this melody. You'll see what I'm saying." Nas stared at me directly from the booth through the glass. Nasir cleared his throat into the microphone and let his raspy singing bleed through the speakers.

"It's mine, it's mine, it's mine
Whose world is this?"

He couldn't keep key, but you could feel where his heart was coming from with the melody.

"The world is yours,
The world is yours
It's mine, it's mine, it's mine
Whose world is this?"

I couldn't turn away from him. His gold fronts shined under the overhead lighting in the booth as he moved his shoulders, swaying back and forth to the beat he was singing to in his head.

Hearing him sing this reminded me of the first time he had come to my apartment and wanted to debate with me about who had the better origin story between Tony Montana and Michael Corleone. I smiled at him as he continued singing the melody.

"Something like that. You know what I'm saying?" Nasir covered the headphones with his hands as if he was waiting for Pete to say he'd sing it.

I hopped off of the island and walked behind Pete. "Look, Pete. Just say yes so I can go home. I'm begging you." I said playfully, cupping my hands together.

"Fine! Let's get this shit over with!"

For an hour or so, Pete sang the hook over and over again until Nasir was completely satisfied. Nas would take over the rest of the session with his verses. He had taken his time to write them out as the instrumental played in a loop.

He would walk in and out of the booth. His brother would spark blunt after blunt and pass it to a man named Mega who sat next to him on the couch behind me.

"If Will was here to see this shit, son. He'd never believe it." Mega said to Jungle as he exhaled the weed smoke from his chest.

"No doubt. That nigga would've been executive producer on this shit." Jungle agreed with Mega as he slouched back on the leather cushion of the couch. I dangled my legs as they swayed over the edge of the island.

"Where your friend at?" Jungle yelled over the blaring instrumental. I turned my body around to face Nasir's brother and his friend.

"Huh?" I yelled over the beat.

"Light shorty with the curly hair? Where she at?" Jungle took the blunt from Mega and hit it at least four times before inhaling the smoke through his nose.

"I thought she told you she's not feeling you." I laughed, still swinging my legs on the edge of the island.

"Tell Mami to stop playing with me. I'm trying to get at her, for real." Jungle blew the smoke out between tightened lips and passed the blunt to his left hand side.