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

061.

' TUE , JUNE 9TH 1996. '
hit em' up video shoot  ⸻
los angeles , california !

     "What you think about the fit?" Tupac asks with a smile checking out his outfit, the jewelry that adorns his wrists and fingers. He's dressed in a charming attire one of his signature outfits, a black jacket shirtless beneath with black jeans that perfectly complements the video's aggressive theme.

The buzz of activity behind the scenes at the 'Hit 'Em Up' video shoot is palpable. The crew is hustling, setting up lights, adjusting cameras, and fine-tuning sound equipment.

The set is a vibrant mix of colors, with bold backdrops and striking props that capture the raw energy of Tupac's new track. As the stylist for the shoot, I'm running around ensuring everyone looks their best, from adjusting outfits to handling last-minute touch-ups.

"Hit 'Em Up" Had been released for the past week and the song instantly gained traction within the rap industry for Tupac's unhinged calling out and ruthless remarks and insults made towards East Coast rappers. He wanted the song to become big and set a huge imprint and impression on the industry and the way to do that was to record, film and release a music video.

I'm backstage, surrounded by a flurry of activity. Tupac is seated in front of a large mirror, flanked by two of his crew members. The Outlaws, Tupac's loyal crew, are nearby, chatting and getting prepped. I'm focused on touching up Tupac, making sure everything is in place for the camera.

As I'm finishing up, Tupac glances at me through the mirror again, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "So you decided to come back and work as my stylist, huh? What changed in the air?"

I narrow my eyes at him, not missing the teasing tone in his voice. "Don't start with your foolishness." I warn, though there's a hint of amusement in my voice. He chuckles, leaning back in the chair. "I'm just saying. Last I checked, you were done with all this—so what made you change your mind?"

With an exhale I say, "Just because I decided to help out with just a music video shoot doesn't mean I'm your official stylist now . . You know I'm going independent." I reply keeping my tone light and playful yet serious. Tupac laughs, the sound warm and genuine. "I guess we'll see about that . . maybe I might be the one to change things round here."

As I finish my final adjustments to Tupac's look, I step back and give him a once-over to make sure everything is just right. I'm meticulous, checking that every detail is perfect. "Don't get too over your head, Pac," I say, keeping my tone light but firm. "I'm just here for this one shoot."

He nods, feigning a serious expression, but I can see the playful glint in his eyes. "At least you here for this one," he replies, his voice low but charged with that familiar determination. "It's gotta hit hard."

I know he's not just talking about the video. 'Hit 'Em Up' is more than a diss track for him—it's a statement, a declaration of war in a feud that has spiraled out of control.

And I can see in his eyes that he's determined to make sure it leaves a lasting impact. I bite the inside of my cheek, forcing myself not to let my thoughts drift to the possible consequences of this track.

The Outlaws—Yaki, Napoleon, Kastro, E.D.I., and Fatal—gather around, ready to join Tupac on set. They're all dressed in outfits that mirror Tupac's in boldness and edge, each of them adding their own flair to the look. The vibe is tough, gritty, and undeniably streetwise, perfectly matching the energy of the track.

Yaki is the first to spot me lingering near Tupac, and a wide grin spreads across his face. "Look who decided to show up and bless us with her presence!" he jokes, nudging Napoleon with his elbow. "Sanai, how you doing?"