Dead on Arrival

Arell sank into his couch, feeling the lingering effects of the drug slowly ebb away. He grabbed his PS4 controller, hoping a bit of gaming might help distract him and shake off the last of the dizziness. He loaded up "Call of Duty," providing a comforting escape from the earlier ordeal.

After a while, Malik and Kenny entered the room, their conversation hushed. Arell noticed them out of the corner of his eye, but he didn't pay much attention, assuming they were just discussing something trivial.

"Yo, Arell," Malik said, keeping his voice casual. "You need anything? Water, food?"

Arell shook his head, not taking his eyes off the screen. "I'm good, man. Thanks."

Kenny nudged Malik, and they shared a look, clearly debating whether to bring up something. But they stayed quiet, whispering to each other.

Curiosity piqued, Arell finally paused the game and looked at them. "What are you guys talking about?"

Kenny quickly shook his head. "Nothing, bro. Just some dumb stuff."

Arell raised an eyebrow, not entirely convinced. "You sure? It sounded like something."

Malik forced a smile. "Just some drama. We'll tell you later. You should rest."

Arell shrugged, deciding to let it go for now. He unpaused the game, diving back in. Malik and Kenny exchanged another look, but remained silent, opting not to stress Arell out any more than he already was.

As the day wore on, Arell felt more like himself, the intense focus on the game helping to clear his head. He played until he felt genuinely tired, then set the controller down and stretched.

"You guys gonna' go to bed?" he asked.

"Yeah, in a lil' bit," Malik replied. "Just in case you need anything."

"Cool." Arell gave them a grateful nod before heading to his room. He crashed on his bed, exhaustion finally catching up with him.

The next morning, Arell woke up feeling much better. The grogginess was gone, replaced by a clear head and a sense of gratitude for his friends. He made his way to the living room, where Malik and Kenny were lounging, talking in low voices.

"Morning," Arell said, stretching. "What's up?"

Kenny looked up, hesitant. "We were gonna tell you something last night, but you were still pretty out of it."

Arell frowned. "What is it?"

Malik took a deep breath. "Someone dropped a diss track about you."

Arell's eyes widened in surprise. "A diss track? About me? Who?"

Kenny hesitated before responding. "Lil Reese."

Arell's stomach sank. "Tavares?" he asked, knowing exactly who that was.

Malik nodded, a concerned look on his face. "Yeah, and it gets worse. Durk tweeted about it too. Said if what Reese says is true, you're a bitch."

Anger flared within Arell. "Let me hear it."

"Bro, I don't know if that's a good idea right now," Kenny said, trying to dissuade him.

Arell cut him off sharply. "Let me hear it."

Malik sighed and pulled out his phone, finding the diss track and pressing play. The harsh beat, characteristic of Chicago drill music, filled the room, and Lil Reese's voice came in, spitting venom.

Reference Beat and Flow (Rowdy Rebel - Computers ft. Bobby Shmurda)

Lil Reese - "Dead on Arrival"

(Intro)

"Yeah, yeah

You know who it is, man

Lil Reese in this bitch

Yeah, let's get it".

(Verse)

"This for that nigga Arell Rose, thinkin' he hot shit

Orphan boy, ain't nobody ever loved him, not a bit

Talkin' 'bout Balenciaga blues, who you tryna impress?

Walkin' with your bands out, lookin' like a damn mess

You ain't no man now, you a boy playin' dress-up

Talkin' 'bout loyalty, but all your boys know you messed up

Blood thicker than the automatic, that's what you said

But we know you snitchin', got my homies seein' red".

(Chorus)

"Can't come back to the Chi, you know you ain't welcome

We run these streets, boy, you better tuck and run

Think you gon' spin for your brother? Man, you done

Talkin' racks and wins, but you ain't got none".

(Verse)

"Heard about your granny, how you left her all alone

Died in that old house, while you out here chasin' thrones

Aunty left him all alone, snitching to the cops

Hahaha snitchin in your bloodline, bitch we know

Inventin' stories, actin' like you real tough

But the streets know the truth, boy, you ain't that rough

You think you got a plan now? Nah, you just a fool

Talkin' all that big shit, but you just a tool

My boys ain't like yours, we solid to the bone

You ain't nothin' but a fraud, better check your tone

Snitch nigga better stay in Alana, Or he ah get pop like his daddy

And you best not talk to me, bitch I don't play friendly".

(Chorus)

"Can't come back to the Chi, you know you ain't welcome

We run these streets, boy, you better tuck and run

Think you gon' spin for your brother? Man, you done

Talkin' racks and wins, but you ain't got none".

(Bridge)

"Real talk, Arell, you ain't 'bout this life

Keep talkin' slick, and we might just take your life

Stay in your lane, boy, you ain't built for this

All that tough talk, get you put on the hit list".

(Verse )

"You wanna be a popstar, shinin' bright in the lights

But we see right through you, all your fake-ass fights

You ain't no kingpin, just a pawn in the game

Keep runnin' your mouth, and you gon' catch that flame

Think you untouchable, but we know where you stay

Better watch your back, boy, every single day

This loyalty ain't for show, it's real in the field

For my brothers, I'm gon' spin, that's how I feel

Oh we got guns, we might just bust em at you

Convenience store, you was ducking now looking for you".

(Chorus)

"Can't come back to the Chi, you know you ain't welcome

We run these streets, boy, you better tuck and run

Think you gon' spin for your brother? Man, you done

Talkin' racks and wins, but you ain't got none".

(Outro)

"Lil Reese, I'm out

You know what it is

Stay in your lane, Arell

Or get dealt with, quick

Lil nigga tryna be a popstar

Thats how I know this nigga not real

Don't ever come back to the O'

You already know what it is

Smokin' on your dead ass Granny".

Arell listened to the diss track, his expression growing harder with every line.

When the track finally ended, Arell sat in silence for a moment, his mind racing as he processed everything he had just heard. "Nah, this hard." he muttered, almost to himself.

Malik and Kenny exchanged uneasy glances, the weight of the diss track hanging heavy in the air. They didn't know what to say, the room filled with tension.

Arell's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, memories of his past and the insults colliding. He could feel the anger bubbling beneath the surface, but he remained outwardly calm.

Kenny finally broke the silence, his voice tentative. "What you gonna do, Arell?"

Arell ignored him, standing up and heading straight for the studio room. Malik and Kenny followed, throwing worried glances at each other.

"Arell, man, you don't have to do this right now," Malik urged.

But Arell was already in the studio, firing up the computer and searching for a drill beat that would match the intensity of what he had just heard. He pulled out his writing book, flipping to an empty page, his mind already forming lines and responses.

Devon came from his room, rubbing his eyes and looking confused. "What's going on?"

"Reese dropped a diss track on Arell," Malik explained, his voice low. "It's bad, man. Real bad."

Devon cursed under his breath, following the others into the studio room. Arell was seated in front of the computer, the beat already playing through the speakers. The hard, aggressive rhythm filled the room, a perfect backdrop for what Arell had planned.

Kenny tried again, his voice pleading. "Arell, you sure about this? Maybe you should take some time, think it over."

Arell finally looked up, his expression calm but his eyes burning with determination. "I ain't got time to wait. He came for me, and I'm gonna answer."

He picked up a pen and began to write, the words flowing out of him with a mixture of anger and clarity. Malik, Kenny, and Devon watched in silence, knowing better than to interrupt him now.

Arell's hand moved quickly across the page, the beat driving his thoughts. Every insult and slight from Lil Reese fueling his response. His calm exterior belied the storm raging inside, but he was focused, channeling everything into his music.

As Arell continued to write, the studio filled with the intense rhythm of the beat, his phone started buzzing on the table, Geoffrey's name flashing on the screen. Arell glanced at it and, without a second thought, put it on silent, returning to his writing.

Moments later, Kenny's phone began to ring. He picked it up, seeing Geoffrey's name. With a resigned look, he answered and put it on speaker. "Geoffrey, we're in the middle of something."

"Arell, I know you're hearing me," Geoffrey's voice came through the speaker, calm but firm.

Arell paused, looking at the phone but not responding.

"I know what you're thinking," Geoffrey continued. "You want to hit back hard, make a statement. But there's a difference between hitting back and outright demolishing someone."

Arell stopped writing, the words from Geoffrey seeping into his thoughts.

"You need to think outside the box, Arell. Don't just create another diss track with a bunch of insults. Use your talent, and don't just respond or deflect. Create something that wouldn't just demand a response, rather, something that he wouldn't be able to respond to."

Arell's pen hovered over the page, his mind now churning with Geoffrey's advice. He reached over and stopped the beat, the room falling into a sudden silence. He stared at the search bar on the computer screen for what felt like an eternity.

Then, with a decisive nod, he typed in "Kendrick Lamar beat."

"Geoffrey's right. I'm gonna put that storytelling inspiration reward to use." He whispered to himself.