Chicago 1990

"Yeah! For those, want to know what kind of people we are..."

The stadium lighting was dimmed, and a few spotlights hit him. Song Ya knew that tens of thousands of people here and countless audiences in front of the TV were watching him, but he was too late to observe the feedback from the audience, concentrate on the performance, and the lyrics The memory emerged, and then followed the beat, popping out one by one from the mouth, "Just like this, 10% luck, 20% skill, 15% will condense..."

The photographer slowly moved the lens closer, and then pulled it to the floor, "5% pleasure, 50% pain..." Song Ya looked straight at the camera, then lowered his body, his eyes sparked, and his free hand kept making hip-hop gestures.

After singing his own paragraph, "Next, Al, let's go!"

He pointed the microphone in the direction of Al, and the cameraman pushed the camera along, "What kind of person is he? He never talks much..."

Al completed the task well, and then Dile.

On such occasions, Americans often bring their families with them. There are many minors watching. The three of them carefully dealt with the swearing part and finished the performance cleanly.

After a while, the atmosphere of the scene has been mobilized, "It's like this!" Song Ya raised his hands up and motioned for the audience to follow along, "10% luck, 20% skill..."

The audience also gave a lot of face, many people echoed in unison, the atmosphere of the stadium reached a high point.

After singing a song, the dazzling lights of the stadium reappeared, and he could finally see the audience clearly. All men, women and children stood up and clapped to himself.

"Thank you everybody!" He took Dilei to thank him, waved out, and the audience above the aisle reached out to him, and he jumped up and gave high fives.

"Very very good! APLUS, wonderful performance! Perfect!" The propaganda director and the stadium manager greeted them with excitement and admiration.

"Thank you, APLUS." Dile and Al came from behind, and the three jumped up and hit their chests.

"Good performance." Song Ya fisted them again.

"Maybe this song can be our stadium entrance song." The stadium manager had an idea.

"Talk to him." Song Ya pointed to the person in charge of propaganda and returned to the backstage dressing room.

"Very exciting." Hayden smiled and congratulated.

"YO! We detonated the audience today!" Al was walking around the house excitedly, unable to calm down for a moment.

Dile turned on the TV, "Very wonderful live performance, from APLUS and his companions, ladies and gentlemen, let's enter a commercial, don't go away, the second half will start immediately..."

"Hey! This guy doesn't mention the names of me and Al." Dile complained to the TV in dissatisfaction.

"Go to the MTV station." Song Ya reminded him.

Dilei switched the channel to MTV, and there were interviews with the three of MTV reporters. They were all well-formed words. The three described the process of meeting and knowing as legendary, and then it was a business talk.

Then, the MV feature film began. The wide-format film-like footage, with slightly shaking shots passing by the dim streets of Chicago's South City, accompanied by a passionate prelude, a large group of blacks gathered at the entrance of the underground nightclub, and Song Ya wore a bull hat. , Approaching the camera alone from a distance.

"Hey, Al, are you trying to kill someone?" When it was Al's turn, Dile also noticed that Al's facial expression was a little too hard, and he sang the lyrics viciously toward the camera.

Al lowered his head in embarrassment, but he quickly got a chance to fight back, "Dila, you fucking not like me!?"

Dile appeared in the screen with a disposable paper cup in his hand, and his stiff expression when singing was not much better than Al.

Both of them laughed, Song Ya saw Fergie and her sister appear in the screen.

Director Zach Schneider cut the footage back to the outside of the underground nightclub. Old Joe stood in front of his extended Lincoln, looking down at the camera arrogantly with his head held high, looking like a successful person and a big music player.

Andrew, Henry, and even Marvota have all left the country, and all the men and women who come to get together have a share.

Finally, Song Ya introduced Dilai, Al, and Big A respectively. Dilai displayed the A+ tag on his chest. The picture was fixed on Song Ya's handsome smile, and the MV ended.

"Cool!"

Turn off the TV, and the three clap each other.

Then, Song Ya returned to New York and started the first week of publicity.

"According to the old rules."

In a small office in a nightclub, Song Ya threw a bag containing $20,000 in petty cash to NAS.

It was his in April. When the joint publicity with professors and others started in May, there was no need to pay the money anymore. Everyone helped each other and took care of each site.

The NAS didn't count, and put the bag under his arm, "Your rap is awesome, APLUS, DJs wouldn't say anything bad even if they didn't take the money." He kindly reminded.

"Hey, You……"

NAS did not leave directly. Instead, he approached the entrance and asked kindly, "How about bringing me with you during the promotion?"

"Aren't you going to teach them with the university?" Song Ya was a little surprised.

"Then you have to wait until May..." NAS pouted, "I was ready, I waited for two years for this day."

"Yes, if the professors don't care."

The nasty face of NAS that always seemed to be owed to him by others would be very helpful for her own acupuncture. Song Ya naturally would not refuse, and took out her phone and shook it towards him, "You can be my temporary assistant, even if you have a chance. Let you sing on stage, but I want to say hello to Rakim first, I don't want to be misunderstood to rob someone from the professor."

"no problem."

NAS replied: "I told them about this idea. They have their own troubles and can't take care of me much. They almost agree."

"how?"

Rakim is Song Ya's important propaganda partner, and he doesn't want the other party to be surprised at this time.

"Rakim fell out with his teammates and they are busy. Although the professor is willing to give me a chance,..."

NAS was a little frustrated, "He has to wait for May to release his first album, and he has no energy to recommend major record companies to me."

"Do you want to sign a big company?" Song Ya thought of Roberto Clever's goodwill, maybe at this time he can earn points at both ends?"Maybe I can help. When the promotion is over, I will help you ask Sony Columbia."

"Really?"

NAS's eyes lit up, "Then I'll wait for your news." He picked up the thick gold chain on his chest with his thumb, "Good brother."

"Yeah, they are all brothers." Song Ya fisted and banged his chest with him.

The promotion in New York went smoothly. Remember The Name is not like I feel it coming. This song is very popular with black DJs, and the white people, especially the white people in the style and sports circle, also commented very well.

The price of his acupuncture has also gone up, and with the full company of NAS, he can avoid the pits of many local black-hearted intermediaries.

Coming out of a nightclub in New Jersey, Song Ya divided the green dollars between Dile and Al in the car, and then threw it to the driving NAS. "Your share."

"Thanks, APLUS." NAS was also polite, and took the money into his pocket.

Hayden's call came in, "There are several multinational companies interested in buying song licenses for different purposes, and the prices are good."

"Just take care of it if the price is right." How could Song Ya disagree with such a good thing.

Hayden moved quickly. A few days later, early in the morning, he ended his promotion in the Greater New York area. When he was leaving for the airport in the car, he heard his song at the door of a branch of the most famous multinational direct selling company.

He looked out of the car window, and the clerk of this company gathered in front of the store, neatly lined up.

"What is our slogan!?" The white manager roared.

"10% luck, 20% skill, 15% will condense, 5% joy, 50% pain!"

Everyone shouted in unison to the music.

"Yes! To bear the pain today, BMW Land Rover tomorrow!"

The manager started brainwashing...