Becoming the Female Shady

Prologue- The Agreement

I decided to begin today lol. I hope you enjoy. I thought of this because my friend was ranting and said, "Wayne and Nicki. I hate 'em. And that Nicki bitch is the only successful female rapper so she gets all kinds of fucking credit! No! She sucks! Female Weezy my ass! If there was a Female Shady.. now that shit would be SICK!" So thus this blossomed. I hope you enjoy. :) I wrote all of the raps featured in this, and if not I'll credit the actual writer. But I will write all of Issa's rhymes. Also this is the prologue. I'm having some issues with this, so sorry. Hopefully it'll be fixed soon. The pic on the side is Issa. Okay! Thank you!

"Yo, Marshall?" Royce said, peeking his head through the office door. "Can we talk?"

Marshall looked up from the rap he'd been working, quickly grabbing it and stuffing it in his pocket and setting the pen down, replacing it with a folder, which he snapped closed for effect. "Sure, man. What's up?"

"A'ight, so, y'know how you asked for us to recruit a new act? 'Cause of Wayne's crew's takeover?"

Marshall flinched as he opened a drawer and filed the empty folder. In a way, him asking them to be scouts was announcing defeat. YMCMB were beating him. And he couldn't afford to lose. He was losing enough. This new act would be Shady Records savior.

"Yeah. Ya found something?"

"Yup! This rapper's sick! You'll be amazed. Seriously."

"Joell said the same thing. His artist was wack."

"Joell ain't got a brain. I do." Royce tapped his head and then slunk into one of the two chairs in front of Marshall's desk. He reached into his pocket and came out with a CD, which he tossed across the desk. Marshall caught it as it fell into his lap. "There's your artist. Motherfucking genius."

Marshall scowled, inspecting the disk. It was in a shiny purple case, and written across it in almost feminine looking writing was Demo Tape/ALL I KNOW EP/Is.

"Looks like he didn't get to finish writing. What's his name?"

Royce grinned. "Watch the tape."

Marshall blinked and stood slowly, walking over to the TV mounted on the wall. He inserted the disk and then went back to his desk, grabbing the remote from a drawer and pressing play. Royce sat back and put his feet on the desk, but Marshall gave him a glare and he immediately dropped them. Then Marshall put his feet up. Royce flipped him off and Marshall laughed.

The TV began the tape, and Marshall's attention went to the sudden movement. It was a blank blue screen with static going across it. 

"It's an audio interview at the beginning," Royce said, and Marshall nodded at him briefly before glancing back at the screen.

A female voice said, "So, Issa, how long have you been rapping?"

"Well, I'm twenty-eight, and I've been rapping since I was twelve. So, uh, that's sixteen years, right?"

Marshall gaped. "That's a bitch's voice."

"Yes!" Royce said, clapping his hands together. "Brilliant, right? You can be Weezy, she can be Nicki!"

Marshall bit his bottom lip angrily. "Shit, man, we-"

"Shut up and listen! She's talking!"

"...so I was all suicidal and shit, y'know? And I got into rap, even though my mom was an alternative singer and my dad played guitar. I grew up to NWA and Pac and Big, y'know? And in later years, 50 Cent and Eminem. All the greats."

Marshall still hadn't gotten used to hearing himself ranked among the greats alongside Pac and Big, and he blinked.

Royce was grinning and watching him eagerly.