"Why are you just standing there like a dummy, Little A? Aren't we going in together?" Leon walked toward the wooden steam room, turning his head to ask.
"Mhm!" Ariana nodded, her face flushing red.
As the water on the heated rocks evaporated rapidly, the temperature inside the steam room spiked.
In moments, Ariana was dripping with sweat, her fair skin turning a rosy pink.
Because she had used expensive cosmetics and perfumes since childhood, her skin was practically marinated in them.
A faint, lingering body scent wafted through the air.
The steam completely soaked her sheer nightgown, making it cling tightly to her petite frame.
Due to the lack of oxygen, her chest heaved rhythmically.
"Fxxk... I feel like I've seen this scene in a movie somewhere." Despite trying to maintain his steady boss persona, Leon's eyes couldn't help drifting toward Ariana.
In fact, Ariana was thinking the exact same thing. Just a few days ago, she had watched a "pure love" movie with this exact theme on a website starting with P.
"Boss..." Ariana's voice was as faint as a mosquito's buzz.
"What's up?" Leon asked.
"Can we sit a little closer?" Before Leon could respond, Ariana scooted her butt over on her own initiative.
Condensed water droplets dripped sporadically from the ceiling, occasionally landing on the arch of Ariana's glistening foot.
The more Leon looked, the more parched he felt. After barely five minutes, he made an excuse to slip out.
But his arm was grabbed tight.
"Leon..." Ariana's eyes were practically dripping with desire. "Don't forget the album you promised me~"
Their bodies were completely pressed together. Locked in a stare, they both lost their focus simultaneously.
Instinct took over the body; dopamine destroyed reason.
Just as Leon zoned out, Ariana's lips were already pressed against his.
Leon didn't overthink it and actively engaged. "Don't worry... I will definitely produce a dreamy album for you."
As he spoke, he flipped over and pinned Ariana down.
entangled, they fought their way from the bathroom all the way to the pink-filled girl's bedroom.
"Wait..." Ariana said.
"What now?" Leon looked confused.
Is she playing the innocent idol act at a time like this?
"I like to control the rhythm myself."
As soon as the words fell, Ariana used a wrestling move similar to something out of the WWE to flip him over and pin him.
Her heroic posture at this moment looked like an Amazonian warrior rider.
"Fxxk... you can never judge a woman's nature by her appearance." That was Leon's only thought after leaving Ariana's apartment.
---
Four days later, at Apocalypse Music headquarters, a discussion about the DISS track was underway.
"We are getting our asses kicked in the court of public opinion," Bonnie said. "Even our fans are disappointed because we haven't released a diss track for so long."
"Don't panic... there will be a way." Leon scratched his head.
On the surface, he said he wasn't anxious, but in reality, he was the most anxious person in the company.
Diddy's album Last Train to Paris, which was originally flopping, had seen its sales rise consecutively thanks to the heat from the Beef.
The diss track hidden as an easter egg in the album was already approaching the Billboard Top 5.
In contrast, Leon's camp hadn't taken any actual action other than spewing trash talk online.
Insults like "Faker" and "Pxxsy" were flying all over Reddit, YouTube, and every corner of the internet.
"Marcus, I want to hear your thoughts on the diss," Leon asked, kicking his feet up.
Lion's Den Radio DJ Marcus and the Battle MC-turned-employee Davis were the most experienced guys in the company when it came to hip-hop.
But since Davis was currently having the time of his life filming in Los Angeles, Leon could only turn to Marcus.
Yesterday, he had sent Kendrick's demo to him, hoping for a professional evaluation from a radio DJ's perspective.
No one knew what made a good diss track better than a radio DJ who ate melons (watched the drama) on the front lines of the rap circle all year round.
"I listened to Kendrick's Diss." Marcus shook his head. "Just like you said before, the lethality is too weak."
"Fxxk... he actually wrote about Drake's substance abuse, orgies, and sleeping with fans in the song... that's just stupid."
Marcus's answer was exactly what Leon thought.
How could drug abuse, crime, and promiscuity be black marks for a rapper?
Those were clearly a string of shining street medals.
"You should listen to this." Marcus pulled a cassette tape out of his satchel. "It contains every virtue a diss track can possess."
The surface of the tape was heavily worn; you could tell it had some age.
"What is this?" Leon asked.
"Tupac's 1996 diss against Diddy and B.I.G., 'Hit 'Em Up'," Marcus replied. "Trust me, this is the Book of Revelation for all diss songs."
Leon was no stranger to "Hit 'Em Up." This famous diss was written after Tupac survived being shot five times in his first ambush.
For more than a decade since, it was consistently regarded as the most successful diss track.
Marcus shoved the cassette into the player, and the aggressive drums kicked in.
Ain't got no motherfxxkin' friends
That's why I fxxked yo' bxxch
You fat motherfxxka
(Take money)
West side
The whole song was maxed out in both mockery and aggression. The manic, gloomy drum beat was a style that, looking back now, was incredibly ahead of its time.
The line "My .44 make sure all your kids don't grow" is arguably the most lethal lyric in the history of rap beefs.
Click—
Marcus turned off the player. "This is the style we need to pursue! We need to make the listeners feel it's ruthless enough, gangster enough! Only when they listen and feel that rush will they recognize the work!"
Leon completely agreed with this.
The author of a Diss song didn't necessarily have to kill all opponents as written in the lyrics, but the fans' emotions had to be vented.
---
After Marcus left, Leon sat in the office, smoking while listening to Tupac's work on loop.
It wasn't until 10 PM that the inspiration finally refreshed.
A piercing scream instantly exploded in his mind. The inspiration this time was more violent than ever before.
After the screaming ended, the title of the song in the MV unfolded—Billy.
Whole squad full of fxxking killers, I'm a killer too
Send shots, shots, shots, shots, shots ngga
Everybody get pop, pop, popped ngga
In the MV footage:
A short young man dressed weirdly with rainbow-colored long hair was jumping up and down amidst a group of gunmen wearing red Bloods gang attire.
He was trying to tell everyone in various extreme ways: "I am hard as fxxk!"
The lyrics were as exaggerated and nonsensical as his image.
"WTF..." After the whole song finished playing in his head, Leon froze in his swivel chair, his expression complex.
He had only scrolled past this type of music on YouTube.
In O-Block, the most dangerous and chaotic neighborhood on the South Side of Chicago, a group of young nggas waved pistols.
They gathered together, shouting nutritious-less trash talk in crudely made MVs like "I'm the hardest," "My whole family is in jail," "I've killed people," "I have no dad."
At some point, this kind of music, used by bottom-tier thugs to flex and act tough, became popular among young people.
Leon had always turned his nose up at this type of music.
And the song Billy that refreshed from the inspiration was the cream of the crop of this trash music.
The three-minute runtime was completely stuffed with empty content about violence and sex, with nothing else.
Aside from being vicious enough, it had no other merits.
But right now, there didn't seem to be a better choice. Finally, Leon dialed 50 Cent's number. "We have a new song!"
---
Receiving the news, 50 Cent was so excited he couldn't sleep and hosted an orgy all night long.
At the same time, he immediately booked a flight to New York for the next day.
As soon as they met, Leon noticed faint traces of dark circles on his chocolate-bar-like face.
50 Cent took the lyric sheet, and his jaw dropped just from the content inside.
"Bro, you wrote this song?"
"Yes," Leon said.
"Damn... this is just too 'ngga'." 50 Cent looked at Leon with suspicious eyes. He originally thought the lyrics in his own works were empty enough.
But the song Billy made him certain that anyone with even an elementary school education couldn't write lyrics like this.
Since there was no time to produce a beat, Leon spent $100 to dig up a beat from an online stock library that barely resembled the original.
This type of music had no melody to speak of, relying purely on lyrics and atmosphere.
Without the backing track to lean on, even basic sound testing couldn't proceed.
After briefly familiarizing himself with the lyrics, 50 Cent walked into the recording booth to start testing.
"Stop, make the emotion more vicious!"
"Not enough, more vicious!"
"Fxxk, didn't you say you knew how to shoot since you were in diapers, man? Don't you know how to sound more brutal?"
After several test takes, Leon was mentally exhausted, and 50 Cent was hoarse from being unable to find the state of "rage voice."
He had experienced real street life, so he couldn't find resonance with the content in Billy that was so vicious it felt like fantasy.
"Bro, I think this song is definitely going to blow up." 50 Cent patted Leon's shoulder. "Give me a little more time, let me find that state of walking the streets with a dagger when I was a teenager."
"I have absolutely no experience with rap music. Maybe you should pin your hopes on Eminem." Leon looked like he had lost the will to live, not because he was worried about the other party's state.
He really had zero confidence in this kind of gutter thug music.
"This kind of Drill is very ahead of its time, even for O-Block on the South Side of Chicago!" Contrary to Leon's discouragement, 50 Cent was full of confidence.
"Drill? Isn't that the music those broke young nggas circle-jerk to?" Leon said.
Although he often scrolled past MVs of this type of music on YouTube and had a deep impression of those nggas covered in tattoos with pockets cleaner than their faces...
It was the first time he had heard the name of this music genre: Drill.
"That's right. Their lyrics are stupid, but the market reaction says everything. Drill music is rising." 50 Cent nodded. "Nothing fits a DISS track better than Drill style."
"Maybe you're right." Leon spread his hands and joked, "Looks like I need to learn from those penniless punks in the Bronx."
"Don't think like that, Bro." 50 Cent explained, "Many people think those punks in Chicago invented this style, but actually Tupac set the tone for this style back in 1996."
Drill style: dark atmosphere, heavy beats, and straightforward, easy-to-understand lyrics.
It's filled with content describing bottom-tier gang life, violence, nihilism, and hedonism.
50 Cent believed this wasn't an innovation, but just a retro re-creation of the 90s gangsta style.
Hearing this, Leon gained a bit more confidence in this new work.
"Do you have time these days?" 50 Cent asked. "I want to hear more of your thoughts on this song. We can borrow Dre's studio; they have the most professional producers!"
"The MV." Leon bluntly expressed his view. "More important than the song itself is the MV!"
Based on the visuals given by the inspiration refresh, if you removed the dozens of vicious gang members in the background of the MV...
The whole work would just be a non-mainstream American with rainbow hair jumping up and down. The song would not only lack lethality but would even be somewhat laughable.
The reason Diddy's DISS track caused massive discussion in the community was largely due to the gang leader Duane Davis, who frequently appeared in the MV.
The last time this street legend was active in front of the camera was around the time Tupac was shot.
The entire rap community online was discussing whether Leon would be the next fool to sleep forever on the street.
"I agree with you!" 50 Cent said excitedly. "In Los Angeles, as long as you spend 100 dollars, those nggas lining up for welfare meals will rush over one after another!"
"No." Leon shook his head. "We need the help of some professionals. Real criminals."
At this point, the name of "Saint" Robinson popped into his mind immediately.
With the addition of the leader of the Compton Crips, the credibility of the brutal lyrics in this MV would undoubtedly be enhanced.
"Robinson is a legend..." 50 Cent nodded. He knew Leon and Robinson had a deep relationship.
"Besides that, I also know some Mexicans." Leon said, "I think if they can join in, the effect will be even better!"
As soon as the words fell, 50 Cent repeatedly praised this as a genius idea!
Whether on the streets or in prison, the gang world was clearly divided.
It was all divided by skin color.
In the 80s and 90s, due to the huge number of incarcerated Black people, they achieved dominance in state felony prisons across the US.
To gain breathing room in prison, Whites had to unite with Mexicans.
After the new millennium, due to the massive influx of illegal immigrants across the southern border, the situation underwent a polar reversal.
Mexican cartels formed a crushing advantage over Black gangs in both the streets and prisons.
Having two such incompatible street gangs appear in the same MV would undoubtedly earn maximum eyeballs and topicality.
At that time, fans would have no choice but to believe that the unrealistic violence depicted in Billy was real.
The producer of this song, Leon, would be seen as a "Street Jesus" capable of uniting Mexican gangs and die-hard Crips.
"I simply love you crazy bastard to death, Bro..." 50 Cent said. "We need to act fast!"
Leon nodded. Since he had already been dragged into this street game of rappers provoked by Diddy...
He might as well go big.
The only problem he was worried about was...
Would this song invite an investigation from the Feds because the MV and lyrics were too authentically raw?