Sunday Fan Fiction: Papoose Wins Kendrick Vs. Drake Battle

Sunday Fan Fiction: Papoose Wins Kendrick Vs. Drake Battle

June 14th, 2014.

A sea of news reporters and camera crews parts as a silver Maybach inches away from the gates at Rikers Island. A crowd, cordoned off behind police barricades, chants “Pap and Remy! Pap and Remy! Pap and Remy!”

Inside the car, in the backseat, the tall, wiry rapper raises a flute of champage above the center console. “To freedom,” he says. “You did it, baby.”

His wife and fellow rapper Remy Ma isn’t looking at him. She’s staring, mouth agape, out between the velvet curtains on the window. He smiles, letting her soak in the moment.

Finally, she turns to him. “Baby,” she says, still dazed. “I… I can’t believe it. What happened?”

“What do you mean, ‘What happened?’” He chuckles and hands her the glass. “You’re out. You’re with me now. This is how we live.”

“It’s just that… All these people!”

“A lot can change in a year, Ma.”

“How’d you do it, baby?”

 

Remy’s face relaxes and she sips another sip of champagne and sinks down into the plush upholstery of her seat. She breathes deep and closes her eyes. “Tell me the story…”

 

“Planning. Strategic thinking. Smart moves. I’m playing chess while these other cats are playing checkers. Like, I had this thing set up way back before last year’s Summer Jam.”

“Wow. And this year you were the scheduled headliner?!”

“That’s right, I sure was.”

“And I heard you tore it down!” They clink cheers and sip and Remy gives a contented sigh before continuing. “You know all those Rozays in there didn’t let us watch. But we got the news. I got a kite from D Block that said, ‘Your man just had Drake and Kendrick bowing down on the Summer Jam stage!”

“Yeah, you know. I’ve been telling people for years. They didn’t listen but I kept telling them. I’m... that... dude!”

“King!”

“Mmm hmm. And when I brought out those two corny simps, and I watched them wave the little white flags my props manager made for them, and get on their knees and genuflect before me in front of 60,000 people—the whole New York, the whole Tri-State Area, screaming the chorus to my record-shattering, twelve-times platinum worldwide international No. 1 smash hit single ‘I Control All of You...’ Well, that was a pretty great feeling, I can assure you.”

“I can’t believe they did it.”

The Maybach motors over the Rikers Island Bridge towards Queens. Papoose presses a button on the console and his window rolls silently down. Cool air rushes in like victory.

“They had to do it,” he says. “They know the rules. Like Erykah said, ‘This hip-hop.’ They lost. They got beat by the better MC. The alpha male. They had to tuck their tails between their legs and come and show their respect.”

Remy winces at the mention of Erykah Badu and flashes him a look.

“Oh, don’t be like that.” He smiles magnanimously. “We’re just friends. You don’t believe all that nonsense they put in the papers do you? When she kissed me and led me over to the throne and put that crown on my head and gave me a shoulder rub, that was all for show. Just part of the concert. Like when Jay put the picture of Prodigy on the screen. It don’t mean nothin’.”

Remy’s face relaxes and she sips another sip of champagne and sinks down into the plush upholstery of her seat. She breathes deep and closes her eyes. “Tell me the story…”

 

I let those bucket-hat-and-hawaiian-shirt-wearing dustheads play themselves because—you know I study human psychology, right?—I knew that was gonna push Kendrick into some irrational action.

 

“Well,” he said. “Like I said, it started last summer, when I asked Kendrick to sneak me on stage at the concert. I knew that was cause a commotion. I knew Ebro and them at Hot 97 weren’t gonna like that. Those guys didn’t want me on that stage. When’s the last time you heard one of my songs on the radio in New York? I mean, hahaha, before this year of course.

"But see, I was just using Kendrick and those TDE stiffs. You think a real New-York-to-the-cork cat like me is gonna cozy up with a bunch of California rappers? You think I forgot Biggie that quick? I let those bucket-hat-and-hawaiian-shirt-wearing dustheads play themselves because—you know I study human psychology, right?—I knew that was gonna push Kendrick into some irrational action. After I stole his limelight and stole the show at Summer Jam—you know who everyone was talking about the day after the show, right? It wasn’t Kendrick, I’ll tell you that! So, after, I did that, I knew that he was gonna feel a way. A little secret insecure way. I saw it in his eyes the next time I saw him on TV. I knew he was gonna try to do something big to get the All-Eyez-On-Me thing back.

"When I heard him on that Big Sean song, when I heard him say he was the King of New York, I knew I had him right where I wanted him.”

Remy turns to him, her eyes full of love. “So you came back at him.”

“Yeah, but not really. Not at first. That first song I did, that was like a Trojan-horse-false-flag-rope-a-dope type thing. Hahaha. When I rhymed, ‘Eazy-E’ with ‘Hee-hee-hee…’ Of course I wasn’t really trying! That was the most ridiculous rapping anyone ever heard! Gimme a break!

"No. Don’t be silly. I was just letting Kendrick get all over-confident while I waited for Drake to take the bait. And then, just as I had planned, that Toronto Teddy Bear stepped right into my trap. See, I knew Drake’s new album was gonna be huge. The dude sold 630 first week his last time out. And that was actually a good album. So I wanted him to mess up, too. I figured, if I could get Kendrick to come out blasting so recklessly at everything in sight, Drake would hear his name and try to say something slick in return. And sure enough, there it came. I mean, it was subliminal, of course. In fact, I’m still not a hundred percent convinced that stuff on ‘The Language’ was really aimed at Kendrick. I kinda think he might have talking about me, to tell you the truth. MCs, they know where the real threat lies.

Anyway, so I knew that that was gonna make Kendrick jump even more. He was like a little fly, flying around that BET cypher—”

“He wasn’t that fly, he was just wearing a black hoodie—”

 

You know I’m like a deadly spider, like a black widow. Except, like, the male version. ‘Cause I’m a man. I’m like a black widower.

 

“No, not dressed fly. Like a fly, like the insect, like a house fly. Flapping his little wings, slapping his little wings into Schoolboy Q’s little wings, making all those annoying bzzz bzzz bzzz noises just like a fly does… All the while completely unaware that he was flying straight into the spiderweb I’d been spinning. You know I’m like a deadly spider, like a black widow. Except, like, the male version. ‘Cause I’m a man. I’m like a black widower. But, rival MCs are my victims, not you, honey. I hope you never die.

"But, so, anyway, that’s when I knew it was time to strike! So I sent out that little Tweet. Letting both guys know, in one fell swoop, that the true King was about to take the reigns of the rap game. 'Drake fall back sweetheart I got this.' Hahaha. I love that. Two birds with one stone!

"And got this, I did. I hit the studio that weekend, and started working on ‘I Control You All.’ And now, I do! I, PAPOOSE, AM THE UNDISPUTED HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION OF HIP-HOP! IT’S 2014 AND THE SUMMER IS MINE! I AM THE MOST POPULAR RAP ARTIST IN THE WORLD! I AM THE KING!!!”

Remy leans across the center console and kisses him on the cheek. "We're going to be so happy," she says.

"Yes we are, baby doll. Yes we are."

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