𝗟𝗘𝗧𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝟮 𝗠𝗬 𝗨𝗡𝗕𝗢𝗥𝗡 ━━━━━ 𝘁𝘂𝗽𝗮𝗰 𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗸𝘂𝗿.

058.

' FRI , MAY 21ST 1996. '
deathrow records studio ⸻
can-nam studios, tarzana !

      "A'ight, let's do this," Tupac says, his voice steady and focused.

The sun begins to set outside Can-Am Studios, casting an orange glow through the windows of the iconic Tarzana location. Inside, the atmosphere is charged with creative energy. It's a typical day for Tupac, surrounded by the familiar hum of studio equipment, the steady beat of a drum machine, and the muffled conversations of engineers and producers.

Tupac sits in the center of the studio, headphones snug over his bandana-covered head. The studio is a second home to him, a place where he can channel the complexities of his mind into music that speaks to millions. His upcoming track, "Just Like Daddy," is beginning to take shape. It's a piece meant for the One Nation album he has been working on, a project that encapsulates his vision for unity and brotherhood in the hip-hop community.

Around him, the studio is a hive of activity. Suge Knight is there, overseeing the session with his usual authoritative presence. Engineers adjust levels, while backup vocalists rehearse their parts in a separate booth. The air conditioning hums quietly, providing a cool contrast to the fervent creativity that fills the room.

Tupac leans forward, adjusting the microphone before him. The music track plays softly in the background, a laid-back groove that provides the foundation for his lyrics. He nods to the beat, feeling the rhythm pulse through him. The lyrics for "Just Like Daddy" are personal, reflective of his thoughts on fatherhood, loyalty, and the struggles faced by those around him.

He glances over at Johnny J, his producer and longtime collaborator, who is sitting behind the mixing console. Johnny J gives him a nod, signaling that everything is ready for another take. The two share a mutual understanding that comes from years of creating music together.

As the track cues up, Tupac closes his eyes, immersing himself in the music. The instrumental is smooth, yet haunting, a perfect canvas for his words. When he starts to rap, his voice is powerful, commanding the attention of everyone in the room.

"Baby, I can take your pain away if you ya trust me..."

"...hopin' you'll forgive me for all the times I bullshitted..."

He begins, his flow seamless and full of conviction. The words flow effortlessly, his thoughts transformed into a narrative that is both raw and poignant.

In the booth, Tupac delivers his verses with precision, each line imbued with the passion and intensity that have become his trademark. He paints vivid pictures of loyalty, the challenges of life, and the desire for a better future. The lyrics are reflective of his life experiences, an unfiltered expression of his worldview.

As he raps, the room seems to fade away, leaving only the music and his voice. It's a moment of pure artistic expression, a connection between Tupac and the world he is trying to change through his music.

When the track comes to an end, Tupac opens his eyes, exhaling a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. The room is silent for a moment, the weight of his performance hanging in the air.

Johnny J grins from behind the console. "That was fire, Pac. We gon' keep that take." Tupac removes his headphones, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied smile. "Thanks, man. We gotta lay some more tracks down though . . I'm thinking of doing a feature."

Just as the moment of appreciation lingers in the air, the studio door swings open, drawing everyone's attention. Sanai walks in with a confident stride, a familiar presence in an unfamiliar place. She wears a stylish outfit, an oversized shirt and a cap pulled low over her eyes, exuding a laid-back, yet strikingly fashionable aura. Her entrance turns heads and sparks whispers of admiration among the studio crew.