Words By Mr Mecc
In a quiet kitchen behind a private restaurant a group of impatient artists is huddled around a table after being checked for weapons and Youtube/IG/Twitter ready electronic devices. The All-Stars and bench players of a powerhouse record label are here under duress. Tyga, Drake, Twist, Mack Maine, Juvenile, Chuckee, Turk, Cory Gunz, Nicki, Euro, Jae Millz, Gudda Gudda and a few others are trying to keep their gadget-less hands busy when two goons set up a TV monitor on the table.
Drake, with ILoveMakonnen & Party Next door on his left and right looks instantly upset. “What the hell is this?”
The screen cuts on and a picture of Brian “Birdman” Williams pops up on the screen. “Whattup Whoadie… how y’all n*ggas livin?”
“We’d be living a lot better if we had our money,” says Juvie in an equally accented but heavily annoyed voice.
“Yeah…” Starts Mack Maine. “We all went to our accounts and not only don’t they have new money in them, but our old money is gone too! Where you at dawg?!”
“Calm down, I got y’all,” he says in a calm voice. “Thang is… Wayne finna sue me for 50 mill. He gon come to his senses. But for now, I gotta get low, ya dig?“
“Aight… I get why you had to leave to protect your money…” Nicki says at top of her lungs, “But why are the rest of our accounts empty?”
The room winces from the feedback caused by Nicki’s volume. “I can hear you fine,” Baby says with a confused face, “you ain’t gotta yell at ya… Hold up. Did you just come from Meeks place?”
“You gotta bitch bugged?!” Nicki says in the same ear-splitting tone. “How you know that?!”
“Never mind,” says Baby fingering his ear to loosen the wax up. “Well, see the way my tax payments was set up… I mean, uh… Y’all are listed as assets,” he says catching himself. “So I took it to keep it safe.”
“So where is it now?!” says a clearly aggravated Turk. “I ain’t come home and reconnect for this.”
“No one can know but me,” Bird says with a look of fake regret.” If any one of y’all got popped, I’d… I mean, we’d ALL go down.”
“So I’m sayin,” starts a distressed Jae Millz. “What are we supposed to do for money man? Cause I cursed out Smack and the battle leagues when I signed so I can’t go back…”
“Nah lil homie, if y’all need somethin, just text me and I got y’all. By the way, who you? I’m saying tho…”
Suddenly, everyone freezes as a high-pitched, mumbling wail rises from behind the group.
“Did someone drop a bowling ball on TI’s wife’s foot??” asks an inquisitive Birdman.
“Nah,” says Gudda Gudda. “I think a eunuch is throwing up.”
“Nah, blood… I was just going over this single.” Stumbling from the back of the room, clad in a brown overcoat, blonde hair and bright red nail polish comes Young Thug. Pulling up a chair to the edge of the table, he looks at all the slack jawed stares with contempt. “Look at y’all. Ready to let my Bird-Bae fly off over some paper… Just like some hoes.” The room grumbles but Thug continues. “If y’all wanna solve alla this, it’s easy. We kill Bruce Wayne… I mean, Lil Wayne.”
Drake slams the table in disgust and stands up… “ENOUGH FROM THE CLOWN!!!” he shouts. “I’m just as famous as my mentor. But that’s still the boss so don’t get sent for!!” He signals one of his owl-clad associates to deal with the intruder. But as soon as the muscle makes a move, Thugger opens his coat, revealing a catholic schoolgirl’s uniform complete with white stockings and blouse tied in a knot. “Wassup lover? You wanna start from the bottom?” Drake and company back away slowly with their hands up.
“Yo… An OVO chain and two free hooks to anyone who brings me this clown dead or alive.”
Thug smiles and walks backwards towards the door. “Don’t worry, I got this y’all.”
Fast-forward a week later and manager Cortez Bryant and a blunt-puffing Mack Maine walk into a warehouse surrounded by teenagers with filthy skinny jeans, tights, grandma earrings and automatic weapons. In the center of the room is a pile of money with Drake and Baby tied back-to-back together on the top.
“Yo! Is this the money to pay off Wayne??” Cortez asks?
“Nah blood, this is just the money Bae-bee drained from everybody’s accounts.”
Mack Maine rubs his hands together. “That’s wassup!” he shouts. “Can you untie them so we can get that back?”
Thug smiles, takes the lit blunt from Mack, pulls on it a few times then proceeds to throw it over his shoulder at the gasoline soaked money sending it up in flames.
“See,” Thug starts with a pistol pointed at Cortez and Mack as they lunge at him. “With all this money gone, every artist on Young Money has no choice but to stay on the label. And with Baby gone, all his assets will go straight to Wayne. Plus, now he can’t sign no more terrible rappers.”
Cortez looks puzzled. “But I thought…we thought you, you two, you know…” he says poking his finger through his fist. Thug smiles as the flames get higher. “Yeah, but he wasn’t gonna leave Wayne. And if I can’t have him, no one will.“
“But what does that have to do with Drake?” asks Mack, staring at the burning fortune with the two CEOs as melting cake toppers.
“Oh,” starts Thug, backing up to a waiting car. “Well, Mr. Graham cracker was on Wayne’s jock harder than me… and with Baby gone, I need a new boo,” he says laughing. “Besides, roasting Wheel Chair Jimmy up there was an entry fee that me and Wayne needed,” he says hopping in the car as it speeds off.
Sirens wail as the car is being chased down the street. Several black sedans with Apple logos on the door are in hot pursuit. Young Thug hangs his head out of the passenger side, backseat window, letting the wind whip through his hair. In front of him riding shotgun is Lil Wayne, who cracks a diamond filled smile while looking at the driver. “So much for Apple Music,” says Jay Z as he whips the ride though traffic. “Welcome to Tidal boys.”
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