It was Saturday, and Dre finally decided to stop frontin' and give me a proper tour of L.A. I been here for a minute, I needed some retail therapy. So, first stop? Glendale Galleria. Soon as we got there, I was bouncin' from spot to spot — hit it up all the usual, and some new joints too. Every time I stepped outta one store, Dre was standin' there arms mad full of bags, lookin' real stressed.
"Yo, how many stores you hittin', Reb?" he asked, laughin' but lowkey complainin'.
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"Don't worry 'bout it," I smirked. "Just carry the bags, Dre."
After a couple of hours, I finally wrapped it up. Bags on bags. Dre was lookin' like a walking department store, talkin' 'bout his arms were numb, but I told him to suck it up. Next stop was Rodeo Drive. Now that was the vibe I was lookin' for, all upscale and bougie. We headed to the parking lot, and Dre popped the trunk so we could load it up. The backseat was damn near full too by the time we were done.
We hopped in, and Dre started the car, pulling out the parking spot. We cruisin' through the lot when all of a sudden the car start actin' funny. "Yo, what's good with this car?" I asked, side-eyeing him. Suddenly, a cloud of smoke started billowing out from under the hood.
"Man, this shit overheatin'," he said, clearly annoyed. "We gotta park it up again, quick."
"See? That's what you get for complainin' 'bout a couple bags," I teased, but we both knew it was bad timing. We found another parking spot just in time before the car gave up for real.
"Welcome to L.A.," Dre mumbled, runnin' a hand over his face. "Guess this is part of your tour too, huh?"
I couldn't help but laugh. "Yeah, not exactly the Rodeo Drive experience I was expectin'."
Now we were stuck, trunk full of bags, heat risin' up from the hood, just tryin' to figure out what the hell to do next.
Dre popped the hood and started fiddlin' with the engine, but I ain't gonna front, I had no idea what he was tryna do. I ain't know shit about cars. Anytime mine acted up back home, I just sent it straight to Uncle Derrick. He knew how to fix anything.
But this car Dre was drivin'? Man, it was mad old—not in that fly, vintage kinda way, more like raggedy, like I wasn't even surprised it broke down. While he's over there lookin' all serious, messin' with the engine, I couldn't help myself.
"Yo, Dre, you sure you ain't makin' it worse?" I teased, leanin' up against the car. "This whip look like it belonged to Moses, no wonder it's overheatin'."
He glanced up at me, smirkin'. "You talkin' all that, but I bet this car still smoother than whatever you be pushin'."
I rolled my eyes, chucklin'. "Yeah, except my shit actually works. You out here tryna resurrect this dinosaur like it's 'bout to make a comeback."
