"Yo E, when are you gonna look into this music shit?" Dre said, in front of the Police Station. I had just bailed him out of jail.
"I don't know Dre. It sounds... Interesting" I say.
"Just interesting? How long are you going to slang dope-" I cut him off.
"Ayeee Ayeee , why don't you just tell everyone I sell dope?!" I whisper yell.
"I'm just saying E... What would you call your own record company ?" Dre asked.
It wasn't something I really thought about.
"..... Ruthless" I say after pondering for 5 minutes.
"Ruthless" Dre repeated.
... And that is how Dre, Cube, Yella, Ren, and I ended up in the studio and Dre's "talent" is standing in the booth, reading lyrics Cube wrote for Dre's dope ass beat.
"What is a 64? Yankin' ?" the leader of the group, HBK, HomeBoys Knowledge, asked.
"It's a 64 Impala and 'yankin' mean to jack somebody , it's not really that much of a difference" Cube responded nonchalantly.
"This ain't gonna get no air play, besides... Who gives a fuck about Compton?" The leader asked laughing with the other members in the booth.
"Hold up... Anybody got shit to say about Compton?" Dre interrupted
".... Ah. Didn't think so. Now... Let's do the song because y'all are really testing my patients. Fucking embarrassing me." Dre said. Turning to start the beat back up.
"We're out !" The leader said. With a couple "yeah!"s from the other members.
"This wack ass jeri curl music" the leader says walking out of the booth.
"You got something to say?" Cube says getting into his face.
It gets silent in the studio. Dre and Yella walk up behind Cube ready to react. I pick up the bottle of Hennessy that was sitting on the table, waiting on something to happen.
"Man, fuck y'all" the leader says and then turns around and walks out, with the rest of the members following closely behind.
"Well there goes the talent, Dre" I say falling back onto the couch.
"How about you do it, E?" Dre asks after a moment of silence.
"No, I can't rap" I respond back quickly.
"Why not? It's your money. Plus the song describes you, E. Nobody else owns a 64 in here, except... You." Dre says, trying to convince me.
"Not sold, Dre" I retort, scratching my chin.
"You're kinda acting like a hoe right now, E" Cube says, chiming in.
"... Fuck y'all" I say getting up
"Show me what to do, before I change my mind" I say walking to the booth door.
They all start cheering and helped me put on the headphones before returning to the studio, and back behind the soundboard. Dre started the beat.
"CRUSIN DOWN THE STREET IN MY 64" I yelled off beat. Next thing I hear is these muthafuckas laughing.
"What y'all muthafuckas laughin' at?" I ask, offended.
"Oh you can hear us?" Dre stopped laughing
"Yea muthafucka, what's so fucking funny?" I ask
"Nothin' man, you just gotta say it on beat" Dre says restarting the beat.
"Crusin' down the street in my 64" I repeat quickly.
They all start fuckin laughing again. These muthafuckas in there laughing at me.
"Cube, y'all gotta go. So that we can do this." I say
"Yo, you gotta go." Cube says nudging Yella.
"No, both of y'all gotta go. Out." I say quickly
"ME? What? Ugh. Write the song, Cube. Shut the fuck up, Cube. Get the fuck out, Cube." Cube says as he follows Yella into the lobby.
"Okay, now E, just stay on beat. Crusin'" Dre says as he starts the beat over
"Dre, you know this shit ain't gon' ever work" I rap
"Haha , very funny." Dre chuckles
"But you see the way you said that? Like you believe it."
"I do believe it" I retort
"Okay, say this like you really believe it. Like you're crusin' down Crenshaw in your 64 on a Sunday afternoon" Dre says, about to restart the beat. I slid on my shades before I begin.
"Crusin' down tha street in my 64" I say coolly and on beat.
"Oh shit, that was dope, E" Dre says stopping the beat. I slight smirked.
"Now we only have 59 more lines to go" Dre says getting back to the beat
And that... Is where it all began.
YOU ARE READING
Compton
FanfictionIt all started in Mid-July of 1988, when Boyz-N-The Hood was released
