On the Come Up(84)

“Yep.”

“Y’all, she killed it,” he says. “After the show is over, go on YouTube and pull up that battle. It’ll blow you away. Bri was supposed to return to the Ring, but there was a little mishap a few weeks ago. We’ll get into that later. Right now, let’s talk about this song!” He smacks the table to prove his point. “‘On the Come Up.’ Y’all request it on the show all the time. The kids love it. A lot of us old heads enjoy it. But there’s a petition to get it taken off Dat Cloud because some people say it led to a riot at a local school. Other people say it’s antipolice, blah, blah, blah. As the artist behind the song, what do you have to say?”

Supreme said to say what I feel. Thing is, all I feel is pissed. “Screw them.”

Hype chuckles. “No hesitation at all, huh?”

“Why should I hesitate? They didn’t hesitate to come at me.”

“Okay, okay,” Hype says. “A lot of folks have been focusing on the violent nature of the lyrics. Do you think they encouraged those students at that school to act out violently?”

Is he serious? “Do you think half the songs you play encourage people to act out violently?”

“We’re talking about your song and this situation though.”

“Does it matter?” I say. “They were clearly upset about other stuff. A song didn’t make them do anything. All these people are using me as a cop-out instead of asking what the real problems are.”

“All these people who?” he actually asks.

“Bruh, the news!” I say. “The lady with the petition. She wrote an entire article about me, made me out to be the bad guy, and never wondered why the students were protesting in the first place. Lyrics didn’t force anyone to do anything. The whole protest was about—”

“But c’mon,” Hype cuts me off, “even you gotta admit that some of the lyrics are a bit much, baby girl. You talk about being strapped, you insinuate that you’ll kill cops—”

Whoa, whoa, whoa. “I never insinuated anything about killing no damn cops.”

“‘If a cop come at me, I’ll be lawless’?” he asks instead of says. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

How the hell did he take that as me saying I’ll kill anyone? “Bruh, it means that I’ll be considered unruly, no matter what I do!” Goddamn, I really gotta break this down for him? “‘Like my poppa, fear nada,’ aka his last album, Fear None. ‘Take solace in my hood going hard in my honor’ means if something happens to me, the Garden will have my back. That’s it. I never said anything about killing a cop.”

“Okay, but you can see how some people took that the wrong way, right?”

“Hell no, I don’t.”

“Look, I’m not trying to come at you,” Hype claims. “I love the song. I can’t lie though, knowing that a sixteen-year-old girl is talking about being strapped and stuff like that, it caught me off guard.”

Not that a sixteen-year-old rapped about it. But that a sixteen-year-old girl rapped about it. “Did it catch you off guard when my dad rapped about it at sixteen?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Aw, c’mon, you know why,” Hype says. “It’s different.”

“Different how? I know girls who were strapped at sixteen, seventeen, who had to do foul stuff just to survive.”

And who got taken down by a SWAT team who didn’t give a damn what their gender was.

“It’s just different, li’l momma. I ain’t make the rules,” Hype says. “My thing is, are we really supposed to believe you out here popping on folks like that? C’mon, now. Who wrote those lines for you?”

What the hell? “The song isn’t about ‘popping’ on anybody, and I wrote them.”

“You wrote the whole song?” he says. “And the freestyles in the battle?”

Seriously, what the hell? “I wrote the song, and I came up with the freestyles on the spot just like you’re supposed to do in a battle. What are you trying to say?”

“Chill, baby girl,” Hype says. “Look, ain’t nothing wrong with a ghostwriter, all right? My thing is, ghostwriters need to write authentically for the person. Ain’t no way you out here strapped like backpacks.”

You know what? Screw this. It doesn’t matter what I say or do. Everybody will have their own idea of me and of that song, regardless. I snatch the headphones off. “I’m out.”

“Whoa, we’re not done, Li’l Law.”

“My name is Bri!” Feels like every bone in my body yells that out.

“Okay, Bri. Look, it’s all good,” he says with a smirk. I wanna wipe it off his face, I swear. “We were having a good conversation. No need to get mad.”

“You accused me of not writing my own shit! How the hell is that good?”

“You must not write your stuff if you getting this defensive.”

The door flies open and Supreme rushes in. “Bri, calm down.”

“It’s all good, ’Preme,” Hype says. “If she strapped like she said in the song, she’ll handle me.”

He plays a laugh track.

I almost jump over the table, but Supreme holds me back. “Fuck you!”