The Come Up (Book II) : PRODIGY

Chapter 6 - 808

I woke up thinking about her. I so badly wished I could find the strength to delete it all. All the memories of her, the beauty and the bad, because I know once the bad is there the beauty will be tainted. And I know once the beauty is there, the bad won't seem so bad. Not even my absent Father has evoked this much emotion in me and he's evoked an awful lot. One day, I want a son so I can raise him properly. Specifically so I can not leave him. I would be around so much that he would get completely annoyed with me. I would be around so much that he would adopt all my tendencies. I want him to be a better version of myself but I want him to be unmistakingly mine. I want him to look like me and talk like me and walk how I walk. I want people to look at him and know that I was around, just by how he treats the people around him. And I wanted her to raise him...

I always have.

And a part of me still does.

I open up my laptop and in moments I have the entire studio set up. The hotel is quiet and the acoustics are perfect. I shop in the folder of beats Flex created for me, they are slow and intimate, though all I've asked for was something hype. But Flex knows what he's doing. He knows that I will like the intimate beats because he's the most talented producer I've heard in my time.

He also knows that I'll be forced to write about all my feelings because that's the only thing these slow beats will force out of me. The first nine beats didn't seem like they were supposed to be written to today but there was something about the tenth that latched on to something in my soul like a perfect fit. Within 15 minutes, I had already had a full 24 bars and a catchy enough hook to take this song to the absolute top. But I would never release it, this was song number seven.

I continue into the second verse and it seems even deeper than the first. I speak about the son I wanted her to raise. I rap about the disappoint of the situation. I say some hurtful things that she probably wouldn't know I was thinking about. Making sure to access all the shit I couldn't or wouldn't say on the phone, not only in some undeserved fear of hurting her but just for my own character. She was already breaking down, I didn't want to kick her.

"I'd call you a bitch but I got too much love for you, know how many times I looked above for you? All I do is ask God but God don't even know what to say back, Tried to be so laid back- really just hoping that it's payback. Maybe if you think that I don't care you'll hurt more, how you go from making a nigga who's rich feel dirt poor? Ain't seen you in person, my subconscious says lurk more - keeping myself busy, if I'm hurting I'll work more- "

There is a loud knock on my hotel room door.

"Yo?" I yell back.

"It's Emil bro, we gotta go. What are you doin?" He yells back. I check the time and notice I have 15 minutes to leave to the LA Grand Plaza for the fan meet and greet.

I curse under my breath and get up to open the door. Emil is dressed and ready. He looks at me in my boxers and wife beater and almost loses his mind.

He sucks his teeth.
"Nigga.." He sighs.
I open my suitcase as fast as I can and pick out a crisp white Tee and jeans.
"Yo, run the iron on this for me bro. Please." I ask as nice as possible as I rush to the bathroom.

"I'm not your bitch Bro. You lucky we bout to be late." He says as he plugs in the iron.
I grab the toothpaste and my toothbrush from the table and rush into the bathroom.

"You look like shit by the way." He yells at me. I take a brief look in the mirror at my tired eyes. I slept last night, but my eyes are a little red as the skin below it bags. Quickly I start the shower up and move as fast as I can.

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Most of my fans range from 13-27, my first mixtape signing taught me that. And this little function confirmed it. Little kids crowd around my table and I welcome them for a big picture. My photographer snaps the shots and then I meet them individually. I know I probably shouldn't be playing favorites, but I spend the most time with the young boys looking up to me like I'm God. I laugh with them and ask them questions unrelated to my music. I ask about school and they look surprised but they answer. For a moment I am extremely happy that I don't write songs full of shit that would probably top the radio in days. Because they heard everything and this is the age where they are so easily influenced trying to find their own selves. So yes, I am playing favorites today. The pretty girls can wait . They dressed with their boobs out and tops that showed off their flat stomachs and belly or nipple rings. I didn't know if it was because I was in Cali or if it was because they were at the Plaza with their favorite artists. I was only one of the artists performing at the Grand Plaza, but my fans came by the boatload.
The energy of it all has definitely raised my moods but the minute I get a time to think for myself, my brain rushes to her. Emotionally, I am tired. I realized that no matter how much sleep I get, it will show on the outside.