Moses
The studio had become like my second home or sanctuary. Now that I had this second chance at freedom, I wasn’t wasting it. The studio had become the only place I felt safe, like I was at home. It was like therapy or prayer.
As Ill One sat behind the board, his face was lit by the glow of the monitors.
He was tweaking the EQ on a bassline that hit low enough to rattle my ribs.
I had my notebook open and pen tapping against the page in rhythm with the beat as I scribbled lines.
Every word had to mean something now. Every bar had to prove I wasn’t just lucky to get this opportunity; me and my family had earned whatever would come from this through sacrifice.
Trent sat on the couch behind me with his big headphones as he watched his favorite show on his tablet. Even though he was deep in Paw Patrol, sometimes he would take off his headphones and vibe to the beat. He would even mumble one of my hooks under his breath, and it made me smile.
I’d promised myself that whatever happened with this sudden fame and attention, family would always come first. I wasn’t gonna have Kahlani home alone or feeling like a single mother while I chased a dream. If it was possible, Trent and Kahlani would be with me everywhere I went.
Ill One turned around, adjusting his fitted over his eyes. “This beat almost where we want it, bro. Once you lay them verses, I’ll polish the mix, and we’ll start shaping the final master.”
I nodded, scribbling another line. “Bet. I’m still writing. This one gotta hit different.”
Ill One smirked. “Every time you say that, we end up with something crazy.”
I felt so much pressure to make this record go harder than the last. “Songs of Moses” had gone beyond Chicago.
It was everywhere now. I was getting tagged in videos from Atlanta, Houston, even New York.
Famous influencers were quoting my lyrics in captions, women were using the hook over their TikToks.
It was surreal. Sometimes I’d scroll through the comments just to make sure this was really happening.
Suddenly, the door to the studio swung open, and Eli walked in with a big grin on his face and his dark shades still on indoors.
“Yo!” I laughed. “What the hell you doing here? Ain’t you supposed to be on the other side of the country?”
He dropped his duffle bag and spread his arms. “Surprise!”
Laughing, I stood and shook up with him. “What you doin’ here?”
“Your boy quit his job, packed his bags, and flew in this morning!”
I blinked, trying to process it, as Ill One looked back at him with a questioning glare.
“You quit your job?” I repeated.
Grinning, he nodded.
“At Interscope?” Ill One pressed.
“Hell yeah,” he answered, grinning wider. Then he told me, “I’m your new manager, bro.”
I stared at him for a second as I sat down in my seat. Then I cracked up. “Man, if you don’t stop playin’—”
“I’m serious!” he interrupted. “I already hit a few connects. I got you lined up for a couple local podcasts this week.” Eli was grinning, but this time it wasn’t goofy, it was confident, like he’d been waiting to drop this on me.
He tossed his jacket onto the couch and said, “Bro, you need somebody in your corner that knows the business.”
I raised an eyebrow, still half-laughing in disbelief.
Despite me feeling honored that Eli would even be willing to play this role, he felt the need to continue to convince me.
“I been behind the scenes scouting talent, sitting in label meetings, and watching how they move. I’ve seen how they build artists up just to shelf ’em when the next trend hits.
You don’t need that. You already got the music, the story, and the movement.
All you need now is strategy, and that’s where I come in.
” He sat down across from me, leaning forward.
“You need somebody that can navigate the calls, interviews, and budgets. Somebody that’ll make sure you don’t get played. ”
I leaned back in my chair, thinking it over.
Truth was, I had been stressing about who was gonna manage all of this.
The streams were going crazy, my inbox was full of offers I didn’t trust, and every other day somebody was trying to ‘help’ for a cut.
I needed someone I trusted who knew how to handle it without selling me out.
Eli must’ve read my face, because he smirked and said, “Come on, man. You know I got you. I know the label game inside and out. I know what traps to avoid. Let me make sure you get everything that’s yours, not what they decide you deserve.”
I exhaled, trying to slow my heart rate. “You serious about this?”
“As serious as I’ve ever been. I didn’t leave L.A.
for vacation. I left because I believe in you.
You’re not just another artist to me; you’re family now.
And I’m not about to let the industry eat you alive.
Let’s go independent and get this money.
You don’t need a label. I’ve seen how they move.
Labels don’t build artists anymore; they build investments.
The second your numbers dip or your sound shifts, they shelve you.
I watched it happen too many times. You already doing what they’d pay a team of people to fake.
You got the music, look, story, and numbers organically.
Labels don’t like that. They wanna own that.
They’ll give you an advance, but that’s just a loan with strings attached.
They’ll own your masters and publishing, and they’ll make money off you even after you burn out.
You don’t need validation from a label when you already got leverage.
Right now, you’re hot. ‘Songs of Moses’ is charting without them.
When a label calls, you don’t go begging; you set the terms. You walk in owning your masters, brand, and vision.
” He leaned in closer, tapping his finger on the desk to make his point.
“You control the narrative. You drop when you want. You decide who gets paid and how much. You got the internet, digital distribution, fan engagement, and all that is power now. Labels used to hold the keys. The game’s changed. You just gotta play it smart.”
I nodded slowly, letting it sink in. I’d been thinking about that ever since the streams started climbing. A few people had already hit me with “distribution deals” that looked more like traps than opportunities.
Ill One turned his chair halfway around, smirking. “He got a point.”
I looked between them and cracked a grin. “You really quit Interscope?”
“Walked out Friday,” he said proudly. “Told ’em I found something better to bet on.”
I sat there speechless that this was my life now, but Eli felt the need to continue to convince me. “I’m setting up a social media rollout— interviews, reels, and live sessions. We’re talking grassroots grind, bro. Street-team energy. We’ll build it from the ground up, brick by brick.”
I stopped him by holding a hand up. “You don’t need to convince me, bro. I believe in you because you believe in me. You got a deal.”
He howled while dapping me up, but all I could do was grin while trying to hold back the flood of emotions.
For the first time in my life, I felt like everything was aligning. And now, with Eli riding shotgun, it felt like things were really about to take off.