Rebel (A Rihanna and Eazy E Love Story)

It's a hit (Chapter 19)

Eazy (Eric) POV

A car pulls up, who can it be?

A fresh El Camino rollin' Kilo G

He rolled down his window and he started to say

It's all about makin' that GTA

Chorus:

'Cause the boys in the hood are always hard

You come talkin' the trash, we'll pull your card

Knowin' nothin' in life, but to be legit

Don't quote me, boy, 'cause I ain't said shit...

"Whoo! These phones are burning up. 1580 KDAY, this is Greg Mack — Mack Attack, and I gotta give it up to my boy, Dr. Dre, who's coming with Compton's very own Eazy E. And you're listening to 'Boyz-N-The Hood ', the number one requested song for two weeks and counting."

I rolled down the street, radio blasting as KDAY dropped "Boyz-N-the-Hood" for the fifth time in half an hour. KDAY lit up the airwaves with our track, and I couldn't stop grinnin', a nigga was ecstatic. The joint was everywhere. For the past couple of weeks, everywhere I went, people were bumpin' it loud, like it was Compton's national anthem. Everyone was feelin' it—young, old, dudes from the hood, D-boys, girls, even folks out in the suburbs. This track was taking over, and knowing it was ours? That was the best part.

I pulled up to the crib, parked, and got out, unlocking the door as I walked in. Joyce was in the kitchen, and I could tell right away she was still giving me the cold shoulder from that night I came home late after showing Rebel around L.A.

Whole time I was with Rebel, Joyce was blowin' up my pager, mad as hell 'cause I'd promised to take her shoppin' for this little girl trip she's got comin' up. When I got home that night, Joyce's sittin' there with an attitude colder than a freezer. We ended up havin' it out– she let me know I had her waitin' like a fool. Now I'm stuck in the doghouse, gettin' the silent treatment every time I walk by.

I decided to test the waters, seein' if Joyce was ready to let it go. I casually walked in the kitchen where she was at, "Aight babe, I'll hit up Yella for some Guess joints for your trip," hoping that would cheer her up. But before I could even finish, she snapped right back at me, eyes flaring up.

"Guess jeans ain't gon' make up for you ditchin' me, Eric!" she fired off, giving me that death stare.

Man, she wasn't havin' it. Yella and I actually met some time ago at Lonzo's crib, and he was always hustlin' Guess gear he got off some broad he was fucking in Sereno. It was quality, no doubt–but that wasn't flyin' with Joyce. She wanted more than some Guess jeans; she wanted my time. And I had to admit, I was slackin' on that front.

Joyce was mad about way more than just the clothes; she was feelin' the distance. And yeah, I had been bouncin' around, busy with the hustle, gettin' this music out, hangin' with the homies, kinda just takin' for granted that Joyce will be here holdin' it down. But that silent treatment she'd been servin' up since that night, been killin' a nigga, shit, she didn't even want me to touch her.

So, I figured I had to try somethin' different. I didn't wanna keep that tension goin' at the crib. I leaned in, softened my tone, and said, "Look, Joyce, I get it–I've been distracted, and I been slippin' on us. But let me make it up to you. Let's do somethin' just us, no interruptions."