Songs: New York Times by J Cole feat. 50 Cent & Bas; Lady in A Glass Dress by Chris Brown
Christopher
He waved his hand in front of her face, snapping, anything to get her attention. She seemed to be in a trance, her big, brown eyes staring back into his with a dazed, deer in headlights type look. He thought it was cute, though.
The blank look quickly disappeared and a dazzlingly bright polite smile took its place. Chris smiled back with a smile equally as big, but a little bit goofier.
"Chris."
She nodded.
"Aaliyah." The name rang through his ears like wedding bells.
So this beauty before him was named Aaliyah. The name fit her well: exalted, high standing, heavens. She carried herself like a queen, and she looked like an angel. She also looked somewhat exotic, with pretty almond shaped honey brown eyes and full pink lips. He wondered if the personality matched the appearance.
She turned her attention away from him, flagging down the waiter and ordered a strawberry margarita. Chris told him to bring a shot of Ciroc, too, to calm his nerves. Never had a girl made him feel like a heathen on judgment day. He reached across the table, dapping up his man Trey. He assumed the girl next to him was Raven, who Trey had been going on and on about. She and Aaliyah were both very beautiful in his opinion, though he appreciated Aaliyah's look more. She was a natural beauty.
He studied her to get a sense of her character.
She was very different from the girls in his past. He could tell straight off the bat that she wasn't the flirtatious type. She didn't bite her lip or bat her eyelashes; she was almost formal in the way she carried herself.
Aaliyah broke his stare by waving her hand in front of his face.
"Yeah? My bad...," he trailed off, unable to hide the fact that he hadn't heard a word she had said.
"I asked what you do."
"Oh," he sat up a little. "I'm an artist--a rapper."
He tried to ignore the blatant eye roll. Instead, he continued with, "What? You don't like rap?"
She crossed her arms, an amusing smirk sliding onto her face as she sat back in her seat.
"I do when it's good."
He crossed his too, challenging her. She was headstrong, a quality he too possessed. "Who said I'm not good?"
"Look," she held her hands up in surrender, "I'm not trying to knock your little hustle or anything. I'm just saying I've heard a lot of 'rappers' and only a few stand to my expectations. Just because you can string a few slant rhymes together doesn't mean you're a rapper, even if you do somehow make it onto the radio and get millions of people to listen to your little nursery rhyme. Real music has substance," she sat up, leaning in closer to Chris. "So what makes you any better than any of these niggas pushing Soundcloud links?"
Christopher pushed on. "I know every nigga out here believes he's the next B.I.G., and I know how hard it can be to make it in the art industry, but my ambition is backed up with raw talent and drive. If you're willing to put in the time and effort and give it up to God, he can make it happen." The stars in his eyes were shining.
"Mmm." She was still unconvinced. Chris vowed that he would break her down; to get her to stop hiding herself away in this glass case.
Without missing a beat, Chris launched into his freestyle:
"New York Times
Come listen to these New York rhymes
A southern nigga with a New York mind
In the concrete jungle of Queens trying to be kings
Getting to the money of sins by any means
As I watch it all, pain out, trying not to stand out
Fish out of water, unofficial reporter
Appear, life is a bitch I blow a kiss at her daughter
In a city with niggas will leave you shit outta order
So yeah, you heard the news, disturbing news
Shot a brother in the head, thank the lord he ain't dead
Was in a coma for months, eyes ain't opened not once
My nigga visibly stressed in a mess he's smoking a blunt
What could I say, I can't relate to that
All I do is pray for that
This is city God told me, go and make it at
I got a date with destiny, I'm running late for that
Grab a paper, hey kid, you gotta pay for that
The New York Times
The New York Times
(Extra, extra, read all about it)
They say you can win anywhere
If you can win there
And you ain't been nowhere if you ain't been there
Hustle hard yeah this really ain't a game man
Same places, different faces on the train, man
New York, New York
Hop on the F train, took the express train
Skip that local shit, my vocal sick
That's how success came
Once kings, now we pawns in this chess game
Wall Street got black slave blood stains
Which means, we built this city
And never got scraps while the devil got fat
In fact, reparation for niggas in desperation
Fuck money, get my kid a real education
Blood money spills, had a real revelation
Southside make you realize there's still segregation
Don't wanna preach, I'm just thinking out loud
Sometimes I wanna save the world and I be thinking 'bout how
My motive: to lead my niggas to paradise
Imagine the world, free from pain
And we no longer scared of night
Far from the crime, the blind leading the blind
We gon' make it primetime till we dyin'
The New York Times
The New York Times
(Extra, extra, read all about it)
They say you can win anywhere if you can win there
And you ain't been nowhere if you ain't been there
Hustle hard yeah this really ain't a game man
Same places, different faces on the train, man
New York, New York".
Raven and Trey gave him a round of applause, while Aaliyah just looked at him as if she could see right through him. Finally, she let a smile crack through.
"Alright, alright. I gotta hand it to you, I haven't heard anything like that in awhile."
She had a nineties R&B vibe to her like she sat up in her room and listened to Jodeci all day. It was rare to find someone like that nowadays.
"Did I mention I can sing, too?" He blurted before he could catch the words from his lips.
This peeked her interest. She gestured for him to go on.
He took his time sifting through possible songs in his head, trying to decide whether to do a classic or an original. He decided to make it up as he went, using Aaliyah as his muse.
"Lady in a glass dress
I can see right through you
You act like you don't want this
But you know that you do
Since he broke your heart, girl
You say you'll never love again
And you won't let his type girl
But we know in the end
You still dream, dream
You still dream, dream
Baby, I can make your dreams come true
Oh, oh
Lady in the glass dress
Hoo, hoo".
Christopher waited for the usual response. Girls usually shrieked and gushed over him, especially if he sang for them.
The girl gave him a soft smile and tried to play it off, but he could see that first hairline crack in the glass.
"Pretty good. I'd try the singing route first, though, then merge into rapping. We're a little low on R&B singers right now but rappers come a dime a dozen."
"What you know about music?
"I majored in it at Julliard. I play five instruments: the piano, violin, viola, cello, and bass, and I sing a little too. My whole work day consists of dealing with music and artists. I would say I know a little." She smirked.
The waiter came around with their drinks and returned shortly with their food orders.
Chris watched as she packed all of that food into her tiny frame, not slowing down once. The girls Chris went out with always ordered the smallest salad, knowing good and well they'd need a Big Mac to back it up before the end of the night.
She threw a fry at him when she caught him staring again. He didn't mind.
"So how do I get a woman like this?" he asked to no one in particular, staring in awe at this enigma as she laughed with Raven and Trey.
She had edge and was definitely fucking smart and he was sure she could somehow see every skeleton in his closet but he wanted to see where this could go.
He never thought he could feel this way again; not after her.
~ ~ ~
Chapter 2 is up!
~ telegraphaveoakland