Antebellum by R. Kayeen Thomas Page A

video...”
    â€œOh, really?”
    I wasn’t expecting for them to show any clips, but I didn’t have a problem with it. A large screen came out of the floor and rose up behind us. I saw Phil begin to turn, so I turned around and faced the screen as well. As it turned on, I immediately recognized the portion of the video that the clip was starting from. I bent over on the loveseat and started laughing. Phil looked at me and smirked. “You still get a kick out of seeing the video?”
    I had gotten control of myself, and was wiping my eyes with my shirt sleeves.
    â€œHell yeah. This is classic stuff right here.”
    The lights faded slightly and the video began to play.
    I was dressed in baggy jeans and a black hoodie that had “Silence these nuts” written on the front of it. The word “nuts” was blocked out by one of those boxes that distorts the image it covers. The scene took place in a jail, and I was standing outside of a cell while two men were on the inside petting and caressing each other. The words rang out across the studio...
    Y’all some bootyhole rappers
    Dick in da booty trappers
    Y’all n***as drop da soap on purpose
    And laugh after
    Got up outta jail
    Tried to battle da best rapper
    Man, they ain’t tell you?
    I’ll hang you from da rafters
    Keep talkin’
    Watch I put ya face through da pavement
    Make you pay for da damages
    And put it in my savings
    It’s basic
    You n***as is pussies
    So just face it
    Came from outta nowhere and failed
    Like Sarah Palin...
    By the last four lines of the song, it seemed as if the entire audience was reciting the lyrics word for word.
    â€œWow...” I couldn’t hide my shock as the lights came back up and the screen that was behind us lowered back down into oblivion.
    Phil looked back over at me.
    â€œAre you surprised that the audience knows the song so well?”
    â€œYeah. I mean, you would think I’d be used to it by now, right?”
    The talk show host leaned forward and crossed his hands on top of his desk.
    â€œThis is how someone explained this whole phenomenon to me...well, wait...would you agree that it’s a phenomenon? Your instant rise to superstardom, I mean?”
    I leaned forward to meet his gaze.
    â€œReal talk, Phil? Look, I thought I was big before. I thought I was already a superstar. But now, with this diss record—man, it’s a whole other world. I cain’t think of no better word for it than a phenomenon.”
    â€œOkay, good...so here’s how someone explained it to me: no matter how peaceful and civilized people try and make themselves out to be, in the end those same people want to see some conflict. And it had been a really long time since rap music had any serious conflict. Small little arguments here and there, yeah, but this thing between you and P. Silenzas has gotten serious. There have been some death threats involved, correct?”
    My entire demeanor changed. I shifted back in my seat, rubbed my nose with my thumb and pointer fingers and let my head hang to the side a bit. It wasn’t purposeful, but my street instincts kicked in—never show fear.
    â€œWhateva, man. Niggas just mad ’cause I ruined they career. They ain’t ’bout to do nothin’.”
    â€œDo you feel as if they have a right to be mad about how things have turned out?”
    â€œAt themselves, maybe. Ain’t no use in bein’ mad at me when you was da one makin’ battle records in da first place.”
    â€œThat’s a good point—they did start it. But you most definitely finished it. I mean, after your record, they couldn’t perform anywhere without people reciting your lyrics. People would even call in to their radio interviews to tease them. And, of course, we all know how it turned out. The final indignity.”
    â€œYeah, we do. They couldn’t rap noways. They was gonna get dropped from that label no matter