𝐖𝐓𝐃𝐑.

016.

' 𝐓𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐃𝐀𝐘, 𝐌𝐀𝐘 𝟏𝟎, 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟒 '
death row records headquarters ━━
beverly hills, california !

"Look, why can't you just listen to me? I get that you're a dope producer and everything but I do have a right to have input on what I want my song to sound like." I scolded at Dre who was being an obnoxious prick. I was back at the Death Row Records Headquarters to work on a new project and I was already starting to regret it.

This was also a way for me to cope with not not seeing Pac for a few days. He had a fifteen day jail sentence for the Allen Hughes altercation as well as community service. I knew it probably didn't seem like a lot but I was still missing him dearly. He insisted that I not come visit him but said calls would suffice. Apparently, he didn't want me to see him like that.

You would think that we would've had time to go to therapy but we had yet to show up to a session. So, we were trying to keep our relationship balanced all on our own. But, it wasn't easy because we barely spent any time together.

"Last time I checked, I make the hit records, so If I was you, I would most definitely trust my better judgment and you can either listen to me or release a flop. It's your pick." We spent the past few minutes bickering back and forth through the glass and it was becoming clear as day that we had a strong disliking for each other.

My debut album was doing very well but I hadn't made any videos for my singles, which wasn't good. I realized I wasn't putting as much energy into my music anymore and instead, I was playing wifey to Tupac. But it was time that I started worrying more about Mika and what she needed and deserved.

"I seriously hate you, you know that? Everybody else here might need you but I don't. I can do perfectly fine without Dr. Dre. Eazy-E is better anyways..." I murmured the last part but he in fact, heard everything that escaped from my lips.

"What the hell did you just say?" His smirk was now replaced with a frown. "Oh, you heard me. Eazy is better than you. You're just a studio gangsta, baby boy!" I let out a devious chuckle which instantly rubbed him the wrong way but I could give two fucks about how I made that abusive motherfucker feel.

"Don't make me bring Michel'le in here to get you, and I promise you I won't stop her this time." He stood up from the soundboard, his index finger pointing against the glass.

"You can bring your punching back in here all you want, I wouldn't give a damn. Maybe she can come in here and make more hits instead of taking 'em." I winked at him before looking down at my notebook with the lyrics to one of my songs written in them.

"You know what? I've had it with your bullshit. You wanna work with a producer? You can find someone else. I don't got time for you, bitch." He walked out of the exit, causing me to laugh at his punk ass before Snoop stepped inside, furrowing his eyebrows.

"What's wrong with Dre?" He looked over at me as I stepped out of the booth, taking a seat in one of the spinning chairs. "We just got into a little argument so he told me to find another producer. I'm fine with doing that anyways. Misa wanted to hang out and so I told her I'll fly out to New York to visit. So, I was thinking that'll be the perfect opportunity to get Puff to produce a track for me." He turned his head quickly towards me, before shaking his head as if he was disappointed.

"I respect Puff and shit but why not work with Dre? Somebody with a lot more experience and can give you that West coast flava?" He had a valuable point but that's not what I wanted to do at the moment. "Yeah, that's all fine and dandy but I would also like to expand my horizons. Do you have anything against the east coast or something?" He kissed his teeth, slouching against the chair.