“I’ll be out there singing every lyric,” she said. “You got this.”
“Y’all so cute!” Teagan fanned herself dramatically behind us, making everybody laugh.
“Go remind them people who you are, little brother.” Jess pulled me into a quick hug before joining the stagehand.
“Don’t overthink it. Just do you.” Ron smacked my back.
“You got this, Unc,” Ty said as he joined everybody over by the exit.
“See y’all in a minute.” I chucked them all the deuces before dipping into the green room real quick to get right. I checked myself in the mirror, making sure my hoodie and chains were laying right. I looked down at the fresh pair of J’s on my feet, making sure they were laced.
“Let’s do this,” I told my reflection before darting out the door.
“Quae Lo? This way. They’re ready.” A stagehand was already waiting for me when I walked out. I nodded and followed behind, my heartbeat on a thousand.
“You’ll come out from here,” he said and then left me alone behind the curtain. I peeked out just long enough to find Noa. She was right in front, grinning up at the stage lights like she was looking for me. My heart beat steadied, and just like that, I was ready to do this shit.
“Y’all remember this shit!” YFN Money announced to the crowd, and the beat to one of my first underground records dropped. “Make some motherfucking noise for Quae Lo!”
My name echoed through the speakers, and I walked out, mic in hand.
“It’s Quae motherfucking Lo!” The crowd erupted, and every phone in the building shot into the air. Mouths were on the floor like they’d seen a ghost. I gripped the mic and let the first verse fall out like it never left me.
“Let’s go! We screaming! Quae got next. Quae got next. Wrist stay froze, and a Glock on my hip.” Every word hit, and the audience was right there with me, giving me the same energy I was giving them, and that energy—that shit crawled up my veinsand gave me a high that I hadn’t experienced since before prison bars and bad contracts.
“Quae got next, Quae got next.” I pointed the mic at the crowd so they could finish.
“Ten toes down,never fold,never flex.” The crowd finished the course, and I turned the mic around and kept going.
“Name in they mouth, niggas better come correct. Talk real slick. Get the whole block checked,” I bellowed out as the beat changed to my most successful song.
“Money up… Money up… Money up!” I screamed, and the crowd went crazy. “Y’all niggas done fucked up. Y’all let me get my money up!” My eyes scanned the crowd,and I immediately found Noa. She was mouthing my lyrics, smiling like she’d just won the lottery. I moved across the stage and stood right in front of her. I pointed the mic in her direction so she could sing along.
“Got my money up, flipped it twice. Yeah, I did that. Niggas ain’t on shit. I’ll take their life.” She sounded so fucking cute rapping my shit word-for-word. “I don’t pray, bitch. I roll the dice. Yeah, I did that.”
“If she’s bad, she gettin’ a flight. And if I want it? Fuck it—What’s the price?” I finished the lyric, looking her dead in the eyes, and right there, I felt it. That spark. The answer to the question Noa had asked me weeks ago. Who was I rapping for? It wasn’t the fame. It wasn’t the money. It was the release. The only place I ever felt like my voice mattered was in a verse.
“Money up, money up, the industry, done fucked up. Y’all done fucked around. Let me get my money up.” I finished the last line. “I’m Quae Lo and I fucking love y’all, Azalea. Thank you, YFN Money. Thank you, Eight24!” I walked offstage, still breathless, the roar of the crowd still fueling me on. Someone handed me a towel, and I wiped the sweat off my forehead. Laying rest to all my demons in one set was hard work.
YFN Money was right behind me, coming off the stage, his grin wide as ever.
“Man”—he slapped my shoulder—“you still got it, my guy. You just did that shit.”
I nodded. “Appreciate that. I forgot how good this feels.”
He laughed. “Well, you know we at the studio tomorrow. I’m laying down some new shit. You should come through.”
“Come to the studio?” I raised a brow. “For real?”
“Hell yeah. I already told Dru. I would love a Quae Lo feature.” He paused and looked me over.
“I don’t know, man. I may be allergic to the booth now. I ain’t been in so long.”
Money shook his head. “Just come through. I got a few singles. You just see if anything speaks to you.”
“I don’t know, man. I’ll think about it.”
“If you decide to pull up, hit Dru for the info.”
