"Do you want me to help you talk to Cube? The album he released last year, I Am the West, flopped terribly. Although his temper is bad, you are very popular now; he definitely won't refuse your invitation." Max volunteered.
In the music industry, popularity is the only criterion for measuring status.
If the album sells poorly, no matter if you are an old artist or a street OG, you can only hang your head and stand back.
Ice Cube was doing better than Dre in the early days after leaving N.W.A, but now the gap has widened.
"Just mention it to him briefly; no need to say too much," Leon said. "OGs like him who have experienced the golden age of hip-hop care a lot about face. When he can't sit still, he will contact us proactively."
The accompaniment of Not Like Us didn't necessarily require Ice Cube. With the inspiration memory in his head, any third-rate producer in Brooklyn could replicate it.
Not to mention achieving 100% similarity, achieving more than 90% wouldn't be a big problem.
He just wanted to borrow Cube's orthodox West Coast brand to make this work more gimmicky.
A week later, on November 20th, the American Music Awards (AMA) would be held in Los Angeles.
Before landing in Los Angeles, Leon took the MV shooting team to fly to Chicago first to shoot the MV for Panda.
King Von sent Panda to the top 30 of the Billboard with his perfect performance in the The Rap of America finals.
Because no physical album was released, the ranking relied entirely on radio and streaming data.
simply put, this work was still an internet song. Once the physical record was released, the ranking data would climb rapidly.
"Chicago is having protests. You have to keep a low profile there. A rich young singer is no different from a blood-sucking capitalist in the eyes of those unemployed workers," Phil reminded.
Chicago is the third-largest city in the United States, the home of skyscrapers, and the Great Lakes region behind it is the manufacturing center of the United States.
The 2008 financial crisis left the manufacturing industry in a depression. A large number of unemployed workers relied on relief money and odd jobs to get by.
But in Chicago's financial district, the lives of those rich people hadn't changed much. They still drove Mercedes-Benzes and hugged big-breasted white girls, shuttling through the steel jungle.
This made the conflict between rich and poor in this city increasingly sharp. Many bottom-layer communities, like O-Block, were governed at the grassroots level by street gangs.
The "Occupy Wall Street" movement was in full swing in Chicago.
"I don't think I'll encounter any problems in O-Block." Leon sighed lightly. He originally didn't want to make a trip personally for an ordinary MV shoot.
After winning The Rap of America, King Von's life could be described by an Eastern idiom—a pool of wine and a forest of meat (debauchery).
He got a considerable amount of prize money for winning the championship, plus the continuous income from commercial performances, and immediately started a frenzied revenge consumption.
Not only did he buy himself a Mercedes-Benz AMG GT, but he also really fulfilled his bold words before winning the championship, not hesitating to take out a loan to buy a Dodge Viper for each of his homies.
Every day, loaded with voluptuous black girls, popping pills and revving the sports car engine, swaggering through the South Side.
Leon planned to use the gap in MV shooting to beat some sense into this ngga, and by the way, stand for the performance of his label The Walking Dead in Chicago's top nightclub tonight, expanding the label's influence.
"Is there a worse neighborhood in America than this?" Phil mocked, staring at the unfinished buildings all over the street in O-Block.
These houses were not all uninhabited. Homeless people and young hooligans who had just left their parents' control would treat this place as a nest.
There was only one principle: whoever lived in it first owned the house.
"The situation in Detroit should be worse than here. The news says there are houses priced at one dollar there, detached houses with fences," Mike said.
Leon glanced at him. "You believe such things? What kind of place do you think America is? The USSR? Free housing? That's all hype by the Detroit government."
The news of the one-dollar big house attracted the attention of a large wave of low-income groups as soon as it was released by the media.
According to their thinking: Even if this house is rotten to the point of being uninhabitable, I won't lose money buying it and leaving it there, right?
Real estate developers and politicians had long thought of what they could think of. Such one-dollar big houses usually came with various conditions attached when purchased.
Excluding heating, water, and electricity bills, one was also responsible for paying to repair the old house.
If these fees were not paid or paid late after signing the purchase agreement, one might face criminal lawsuits, making the already poor families worse off.
The commercial van drove into the next corner, and an apartment building with a huge graffiti of "King Von accepts Street Jesus' coronation" appeared. Similar graffiti was everywhere on both sides of the street.
Von didn't forget his original intention. Even after making money, he still lived in the poor O-Block with his black brothers.
"Hey! Look there! It's the Boss's convoy!" Lil Durk shouted, and the street roamers leaning against the wall smoking weed immediately jumped up.
"Sht bro, is Leon really here?"
"Can you talk to him and ask him to sign me? I'll introduce my cousin from Detroit to you; you can't imagine how hot she is!"
As soon as Leon got out of the car, a group of black youths surrounded him, flattering him to the extreme.
The warm scene made people dream back to the Age of Discovery, where colonists were "worshipped" by natives on the Gold Coast.
"Boss, welcome to O-Block, the best community in the entire South Side of Chicago." King Von flashed a gang sign symbolizing respect.
"What happened to your teeth?" Leon noticed the other party's diamond grillz and the eye-catching Rolex "Hulk" Submariner on his hand at a glance. "Keep a low profile, ngga. I've told you many times, there are quite a few people who want to feed you bullets."
"Then let them try. This is Chicago!" King Von made a shooting gesture, shouting: "Bang bang."
"Enough, you fool. Get your ass back to New York immediately after the show in Chicago, understand? You are already a real rap star; there is a lot of work waiting for you."
Leon glared at him fiercely, and the other party immediately restrained himself.
Old Mike, responsible for filming, glanced at the time on his watch and urged the lazy black youths: "Move it, boys. Go change clothes quickly. Remember everyone's movements!"
Under his coordination and mobilization, the camera positions were set up an hour later, and the simple scene construction work was completed.
"Ready, Von?"
"Anytime!" King Von was sandwiched between two BMW X5s, one black and one white, making an OK gesture.
"Three!"
"Two!"
"One!"
"Action!"
After the start command was given, King Von walked on the street with an arrogant stride, bobbing his head as if high on drugs.
The street was crowded with people on both sides. This wild boy they watched growing up had become a veritable rap star.
"Panda... Panda... Panda..."
King Von grinned at the camera, showing off his exaggerated diamond grillz and big gold chain.
Vroom—The driver in the car stepped on the gas, and two BMW X5s sped past his body.
"Yes... awesome! That's it!" Old Mike waved his hand. "Girls, boys, now it's your turn! Show your truest street life to the camera!"
For this chance to show their faces in the MV, the gang members had long been eager.
Hearing the start command, they immediately surrounded King Von in the center of the crowd.
Boys waved flags that read—"This is Chiraq"!
Girls got on all fours, shaking their bodies on the ground, holding nothing back from the camera, wishing they could twerk right on the lens.
Bold girls climbed onto the roof of the BMW, shaking their full "tail lights" and making seductive expressions.
The scene looked extremely chaotic, with no design at all, and had little to do with the original MV from Leon's inspiration refresh.
There weren't so many extras in the original MV shooting plan, but under King Von's strong request, Mike had to bite the bullet and agree to give every one of his brothers a chance to show their faces.
But judging from the current effect, it wasn't bad. The chaotic scene injected a bit of the soul of Chicago Drill music into this Atlanta Trap song.
The onlookers watched with surging enthusiasm, especially those teenagers who were still in school.
Becoming a rapper is the dream of all bottom-layer black boys. King Von was what they fantasized about becoming when they grew up.
"Mom, I want to drop out of school to do rap!"
"You and Dad sell the car to buy me equipment! When I become a millionaire, I'll buy you a GTR!"
"Leon! Look here! The next rap superstar you're looking for is right here!"
The scene originally planned to take two hours to shoot was completed in just one hour.
Leon took King Von and Lil Durk into the commercial van, heading north all the way to the Chicago business district to shoot the last scene.
After all shooting ended, they would perform at Chicago's top nightclub.
Nightclub performance didn't sound like a high-class show, but it was a compulsory course for every rapper.
More than a year ago, when Leon first debuted, he also performed in a luxury nightclub in Sheepshead Bay. Even Rihanna had several nightclub performance plans every year.
Top nightclubs usually pay well, and local celebrities, music critics, and wealthy businessmen will go to support, which is a good opportunity to expand the influence of works.
On the way to the club, Phil received a call. "Sorry, Lupe, we were delayed a bit because of shooting the MV. We're almost there."
"Please hurry up! The audience can't wait!" An anxious voice came from the other end of the phone. "Leon is also there, right? I got news that he doesn't plan to leave Chicago tonight."
"That's right, he's in the car. He doesn't want to miss the first performance of The Walking Dead label."
"Great, tell Leon I reserved the best booth for him, VIP of VIPs!"
Phil turned on the speakerphone during the call, and Leon heard every word clearly.
Leon frowned and asked, "Lupe? Is it Lupe Fiasco?"
"Yes." Phil said, "He sent me countless messages before, hoping you must attend tonight."
"I'm not familiar with that guy at all; we haven't even spoken a few words."
"You are very popular now; everyone wants to get close to you." Phil spread his hands. "Chicago is his territory, and he is also the owner of this nightclub. At least you don't have to pay for any consumption tonight."
Leon shrugged and didn't say anything.
Lupe Fiasco is a Chicago rapper second only to Kanye West in fame. His album Lasers released this year just topped the Billboard 200 albums chart.
Like all rappers who debuted around the millennium, he was once Jay-Z's little brother and got the opportunity to sign with Atlantic Records under the other party's recommendation.
However, the relationship between the two took a sharp turn for the worse in 2008. The problem lay with Barack Obama, who was elected president that year.
Lupe, who had always been low-key, repeatedly blasted Barack on social media platforms as a "fake black man," a Wall Street agent in black skin, saying that after taking office, he would only make life harder for bottom-layer black people.
These remarks startled Jay-Z, who was extremely sensitive to politics, into a cold sweat. He immediately announced a falling out with Lupe, calling him a "vicious dog biting its owner just after weaning."
Ten minutes later, the black Cadillac Escalade Leon was riding in stopped in front of the nightclub. For tonight's grand performance, a red carpet was even laid out decently.
Reporters who had been squatting for two hours were immediately revived. The original target was Chicago city hero King Von; they didn't expect Leon to appear as well.
They immediately grabbed their cameras and pressed the shutter quickly. The flashlights dazzled people's eyes.
"Mr. Leon! Talk about your new album. Will there be works collaborating with King Von in it?"
"You saved Chicago rap. We need a new generation like King Von so much!"
"Will you discover more Chicago rappers in the future?"
A bold reporter almost shoved the camera into Leon's face, but was pushed away by him.
He didn't give these reporters any face on the Grammy red carpet, so he cared even less on this occasion.
Escorted by the black youths from O-Block, he walked quickly into the nightclub.
"Get out of the way, bitch!"
"Do you want me to spank your ass?"
Nightclub dancers asking for photos swarmed forward, but were pushed away fiercely by the black youths before they could get close.
In the luxury private room on the second floor of the bar, Lupe had already arranged for people to fill the table with precious spirits and champagne, with complete cigar equipment.
"Macallan No. 1? Look how thoughtful Lupe is." Phil picked up a bottle of whiskey and grinned. "Just don't know how the girls are arranged later. Chicago girls are famous for being hot."
"I don't want him to pay. Free things are the most expensive." Leon lay on the sofa, picking up a cigar and puffing.
"Not taking advantage when you can will send you to hell. Isn't that what you always say?"
"True." Leon curled his lips into a smile, opened a bottle of whiskey, and poured half a glass.
Just as he picked up the glass and took a sip, he said to Von and Lil Durk: "What are you two guys standing there for? Go to the dressing room and prepare well. Don't screw up tonight!"
"Don't worry, boss. We won't embarrass you!" King Von slapped the butt of the waitress outside the door and walked towards the dressing room swinging his arms.
At 11 PM, the bar performance reached its climax.
The background music turned into zombie roars, and the big screen behind the DJ switched to the scene of the zombie tide advancing in the hit American drama The Walking Dead.
King Von and Lil Durk imitated the appearance of junkies high on drugs, shaking their heads and walking onto the stage like zombies.
Grabbing the microphone, they shouted: "The living dead are here! Are you ready?"
Yes!!!
"Tonight I'll make you high as zombies! Everyone shake with me!"
The background sound switched suddenly, and the huge sound wave made people's cochleae itch.
Leon, in the second-floor private room, was better off. If he were in the first-floor booth, the piercing sound wave would make him not want to stay for a second.
A dozen young models played instruments around him, trying every means to show their bodies to attract Street Jesus's attention.
The neglected Phil sweated anxiously and could only roughly pull the girls into his arms.
"Look here, girls. Doesn't anyone like an old-school New York gentleman?"
"Trust me, older men are more experienced. I know better how to take care of girls!"
At the climax of the performance, the VIP private room door was suddenly pushed open.
Lupe walked in holding a glass of whiskey, followed by a black girl.
Her looks were hard to describe, but her figure was exceptionally voluptuous.
He waved his hand to signal the models to move aside and sat down next to Leon. "Very sorry for coming over at this time. I'm worried this will appear abrupt... Are you satisfied with my hospitality?"
"This is the most perfect night I've spent in Chicago."
Leon responded formulaically. The other party's conversation didn't show he was a black rapper at all, adding a few points of favorability in his heart.
"There is something I have to apologize to you for." Lupe said with a smile.
"Apologize for what?"
"My shop doesn't provide Ace of Spades champagne; even the bottles are not allowed to appear."
Ace of Spades is a brand under Jay-Z. It started to sweep major nightclubs across the United States after 2010. The high pricing made him a lot of money.
"Fck Ace of Spades. Even alpacas wouldn't think that stuff tastes good."
The two laughed simultaneously and shook hands in an arm-wrestling posture. The common enemy made the atmosphere of this meeting exceptionally relaxed.
"Solana, aren't you a fanatical fan of Leon?" Lupe waved to the black girl behind him. "Opportunity is rare; why don't you sit closer?"
The black girl muttered with her thick lips, hesitated for a few seconds, and then moved her butt towards Leon.
"Nice to meet you, Leon! Oh my God! Please forgive my loss of composure; I'm just too excited!" She kept fanning herself with her palm to cool down her flushed cheeks:
"I am Solana Rowe. They call me SZA."
"Hello." Leon was obviously not interested in this plain-looking black girl and responded perfunctorily.