Chapitre 51: Studio Sesh. PT 1
As Arell and Geoffrey approached the sprawling complex that housed the recording studio, the grandeur of the facility became apparent.
The entrance was guarded by security personnel, who checked their IDs before allowing them access.
Glancing at Geoffrey as they walked through the hallways, Arell asked, "You got your gun, right?"
Geoffrey chuckled. "Always, Arell. But let's focus on you making magic in the booth."
With that, they walked into the main studio area, the sound of music and voices echoing off the polished concrete floors and high ceilings. The space was vast, with several recording booths visible through glass partitions.
Arell's eyes widened as he took in the scene, a sense of awe washing over him.
As they approached the reception area, a figure emerged from behind a desk, a wide smile greeting them. "Arell Welcome. Mr. Jeffrey has been waiting for you."
Arell extended his hand, shaking the person's firmly. "Appreciate it. Is he ready for us?"
The assistant nodded. "Studio A is prepped and ready. Go ahead; he's eager to work."
Geoffrey clapped Arell on the back. "I'll be around, man. Go kill it."
Arell nodded, taking a deep breath before heading toward Studio A. As he stepped inside, the smell of weed hit him immediately. The studio was enormous, with multiple booths and a luxurious lounge area.
Arell's eyes darted around, taking in the scene. It wasn't overly crowded but there were a number of individuals he immediately recognised, there was Swae Lee, hunched over a keyboard, lost in a beat. Metro Boomin was beside him, nodding along, clearly in his element. Across the room, Travis Scott was lounging on a plush sofa, headphones on, his eyes closed in concentration.
Then, Young Thug spotted Arell. He broke away from a group, striding over. "Arell, my man!" He greeted him with a firm dap.
Arell lips immediately curved. "Good to finally meet you, what's going on?"
Young Thug grinned, a spark of enthusiasm in his eyes. "I'm straight, been looking forward to this." He motioned for Arell to follow him further into the studio. "Let me show you around and introduce you to everybody."
As they walked through the spacious studio, Arell couldn't help but feel the creative energy buzzing in the air. The scent of weed was strong, mixing with the faint smell of fresh coffee.
Thug pointed to Swae Lee, who was still engrossed in his work at the keyboard. "That's Swae over there."
Swae Lee looked up, nodding at Arell. "What's good, man? Welcome to the lab."
"Appreciate it," Arell replied, giving a nod back.
Next, they approached Metro Boomin, who was adjusting some levels on his laptop while munching on a piece of KFC chicken. "Yo Leland, this is Arell," Thug introduced.
Metro looked up, a smile breaking across his face. "What's up, Arell? Heard a lot about you."
"All good things, I hope," Arell said, chuckling.
"Of course," Metro replied. "Ready to make some hits?"
"Definitely," Arell said, feeling more at ease.
As they moved on, Thug pointed out a group in the corner where Travis Scott was sitting, a joint in hand, chatting with a few other artists. Travis took off his headphones and stood up, extending his hand. "What's good?"
"I'm good, man. Big fan of your work," Arell said, shaking his hand.
"Likewise," Travis said, taking a drag from his joint. "You ready to get lit in here?"
"You know it," Arell replied, feeling the energy in the room.
Thug then led him over to a corner where Metro was now joined by Mike Dean, who was tweaking some sounds on his console. "Mike, this is Arell," Thug said.
Mike Dean looked up from his console, giving a nod. "Nice to meet you, Arell."
"Nice to meet you too," Arell replied.
As they continued their tour, Thug introduced him to Don Toliver, who was chatting with a few other artists. Don gave Arell a fist bump. "What's up, man? Ready to vibe out?"
Hours had soon past and most of the time, Arell just chilled and wrote some lyrics while the others were working on tracks. He could have been mad about not jumping in right away, but it was genuinely interesting to see how they worked. The way they bounced ideas off each other, the bursts of creativity, and the camaraderie were fascinating.
Overnight, Arell got more familiar and was now on a first-name basis with most of them. Thug, now referred to as Jeff by Arell, approached him with a grin. "Yo, Arell, come listen to this."
Arell followed Jeff to a booth where he played a track. The beat hit Arell instantly – a hypnotic blend of melodic synths and hard-hitting drums. The rhythm was infectious, with a bassline that vibrated through the room.
[King Troup by Young Thug]
Jeff stood by the console, mouthing the lyrics, while Metro, sitting at the console, nodded along. The chorus played,
"Action (Yeah, yeah)
I hop out, I'm dabbin' (Hop out, I'm dabbin')
My old lady classy (My old lady clean)
We onto this fashion (We onto these drips)
My coupe sittin' on Davins (My coupe sittin' on- skrr)
Hop out with a bad bitch (Hop out with a bitch)
My faculty braggin' (Brag)."
Arell found himself nodding to the beat, his eyes closed, feeling the energy of the track. The room seemed to pulse with the music, everyone in sync with the vibe.
"This shit goes hard," Arell said, opening his eyes and looking at Jeff.
Jeff, with a cup in his hand, grinned widely. "You like it?"
"Nah, that's hard," Arell affirmed.
Jeff's grin widened even further. "Punch some shit in then."
Arell hesitated for a moment, glancing back at the console where Metro was adjusting levels. "You sure? It already sounds hard."
Jeff nodded. "Trust me, man. Just vibe with it."
Arell took a deep breath, feeling the pressure but also the thrill of the opportunity. He stepped into the booth, the beat of enveloping him. He adjusted the headphones, closed his eyes, and started to find his rhythm with the track. The lyrics and the flow began to form in his mind, a perfect complement to the infectious beat.
As the track played, Arell listened closely, waiting for the right moment. The instrumental pulsed, the synths weaving a haunting melody over the solid drumbeat. Arell nodded along, feeling the groove, the anticipation building. He waited through the chorus, the infectious hook echoing in his ears, "Action, I hop out, I'm dabbin'..."
When the last chorus ended, the beat flowed seamlessly into a break, a perfect spot for a new verse. The melody looped, providing a smooth transition. Arell took a deep breath and began:
"Classy with the drip, step out clean like a model,
Pour up, lean in the bottle, no waddle, full throttle,
VVS ot on my neck, but, still gleam, no hassle,
Boss moves, makin' deals, like I'm playin' with a gavel.
Pull up in the 'Rari, paint wet like a canvas,
Old money, new style, got a mansion in Atlantis,
Watch frozen, no time, like a scene from a movie,
Shawty bad, she a dime, got her rollin' with a Uzi.
I'm the wave, tsunami, all these niggas can't stand me,
In the booth, cookin' heat, like I'm Gordon with the Ramsey,
From the south, yeah, in the A, where we hustle, get the cash,
No brakes, all gas, future legends, we the class."
As the verse ended, Arell stepped out of the booth, he looked over at Jeffery and Metro, gauging their reactions.
Jeff grinned, his eyes shining with approval. "That shit was tough, Arell. But it felt too short."
Metro nodded, adjusting his hat. "You gotta put more swag to it. Right now, it sounds like you're forcing it a bit."
Jeff agreed. "Yeah, you ain't gotta come hard with a beat like this. It's all about the flow."
Arell nodded thoughtfully, processing their feedback. "Hmm," he said, considering how to approach it differently. "Play it back again."
As the beat replayed, Arell stood there, formulating new lyrics in his mind, his lips moving silently as he rehearsed them. He nodded to himself, feeling more confident.
"Aight," Arell said, signaling that he was ready. He stepped back into the booth, feeling a renewed sense of determination. This time, he let the first part of his verse play, then waited for the drum hit to mark his entry.
"Classy with the drip, yeah, we stylin' like it's normal,
Pour up, lean sippin', we ain't walking, we floatin' formal,
VVS, no stress, just the gleam, effortless,
Movin' like a boss, makin' plays, chest-to-chest.
Pull up in the Lambo, paint drippin', art in motion,
Old money, new waves, mansion by the ocean,
Time froze, no seconds, life's a cinematic scene,
Shawty bad, she a queen, got her flexin' with the team.
I'm the wave, hurricane, all these niggas watch in awe,
In the booth, heat risin', like I'm Gordon, master chef,
From the south, yeah, the A, where the hustle never rests,
No brakes, all gas, future legends, we the best."
Arell's flow was smoother, more confident. He matched the beat effortlessly, his voice blending perfectly with the instrumental.
Feeling the groove, Arell continued, letting his lyrics flow naturally.
"I put your hoe to test, then I put that bitch to rest,
Drip too hard, she obsessed, got her neck in VVS,
Countin' stacks, made a bag, no cap, I'm living blessed,
From the bottom to the top, ain't no time to second guess.
Money movin' fast, like a Lambo on the dash,
Made it rain in two months, pockets heavy with the cash,
Flexin' in designer, ain't no need to check the tag,
Keep the heat, keep it cool, I ain't talkin' bout the mag.
Got the game on lock, like a safe, keep the code,
Never fold under pressure, all my moves stay bold,
Ice cold, wrist froze, like my name was North Pole,
I stack fuckin' paper, watch my wealth unfold.
Hunnids, bands, racks, I'm on a different payroll,
Chasin' global dreams, ain't no time to parole
I see em outside, ain't he know my niggas on patrol?
But I see money, so I'll let that nigga rest,
Hit the block with the crew, we on a money quest,
Got my mind on the cash, ain't no room for the mess,
Burnin' up the track, like a bulletproof vest,
Gettin' that bag, ain't no room for the rest."
Arell took off the headphones, a sense of anticipation hanging thick in the air. Jeff's grin widened, his approval evident.
"I like that," Jeff remarked, leaning back in his chair. "That swagger you added at the beginning, that's what I was talkin' about."
Arell, still unsure of himself, rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah? You sure, though? It feels different."
Jeff chuckled. "Different ain't bad, man. Different is what makes it interesting. You still ridin' the beat, but now you sound more confident, more in control."
Metro, who had been silently tweaking the dials on the console throughout their conversation, finally spoke up. "Let's play it back for you, see what you think."
Arell nodded, a hint of nervousness lingering in his gut. He watched as Metro pressed a button, and the intro of the track began to fill the studio once more. This time, Arell listened intently, focusing on his own verse.
As the beat dropped and his vocals kicked in, Arell felt a shift within himself. The lyrics flowed effortlessly, his voice smooth and assured.
"Classy with the drip, yeah, we stylin' like it's normal," he rapped, his voice gliding over the melody, "Pour up, lean sippin', we ain't walking, we floatin' formal,"
He moved through the verse, confidence building with each line. The studio seemed to fade away, replaced by the rhythm of the music and the flow of his words. By the time he finished his part, Arell was lost in the zone.
The track continued, now featuring Young Thug's distinctive vocals seamlessly intertwined with Arell's. As the final notes faded, a comfortable silence descended upon the studio.
Then, Swae Lee, who had been hovering nearby, poked his head in. "Wait, that you?" he asked, a surprised grin spreading across his face. He bounced his head to the afterbeat, clearly feeling the vibe.
"Damn, Arell," he continued, stepping fully into the room. "You went in on that. That flow was smooth."
A relieved smile broke across Arell's face. The approval was like a weight lifting off his shoulders. He wasn't just some random guy in the studio anymore, he was starting to feel like a real contributor.
Suddenly, Swae's brow furrowed. "Hold up," he said. "You spittin' 'bout lean sippin', you drink?"
Arell raised an eyebrow. "Nah, that's just part of the vibe of I got from the song, you know? I ain't really a lean drinker."
Swae's eyes gleamed with amusement. "Hold up a sec," he said, bouncing out of his chair. He disappeared behind a curtain for a moment, then emerged with a styrofoam cup half-filled with a purple liquid.
"Here," Swae said, holding the cup out to Arell. "Take a sip of that there."
Arell hesitated, eyeing the cup with suspicion. He'd never really messed with lean, and the stories he'd heard about it weren't exactly encouraging.
"Nah, I'm good, man," he declined politely, pushing the cup back towards Swae. "Appreciate the offer, though."
Swae's smile faltered slightly. "Suit yourself," he shrugged, taking a swig from the cup himself. "But trust me, a little bit of that can get the creative juices flowin'."
The urge to fit in, to truly embody the character he'd created in his verse, warred with the cautious voice in his head. He glanced at Jeff, who seemed oblivious to the exchange, then back at Swae.
Swae's grin widened, misinterpreting Arell's hesitation. "Scared, little homie?" he teased.
Arell straightened, a part of him, the curious part, also couldn't deny the allure of the unknown. Maybe a small sip wouldn't hurt. It could even be a good story to tell later.
With a mental shrug, Arell surprised both himself and Swae. "Alright, let me get a sip," he said, holding out his hand.
Swae's grin turned into a wide, toothy one. "That's what I'm talkin' about!" he exclaimed, pouring a small amount of the purple liquid into a fresh cup.
He held the cup out to Arell. "Just a taste, though. You don't want to overdo it your first time."
Arell took the cup, the sweet scent even stronger up close. He swirled the liquid around for a moment, watching the way it shimmered under the studio lights.
Then, with a deep breath, he brought the cup to his lips and took a tentative sip.
The sweet, syrupy liquid coated his tongue, sending a shiver down his spine. It tasted vaguely of grape cough syrup, with a hint of something herbal he couldn't quite place. It wasn't unpleasant, but it wasn't exactly refreshing either.
He lowered the cup, the taste lingering on his tongue.
"So?" Swae asked. "What do you think?"
Arell shrugged, unsure how to describe the sensation. "It's... different," he managed, handing the cup back to Swae.
Swae chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Different, huh? Trust me, you'll get used to it." He took another sip from the cup, savouring the flavor.
Before Arell could respond, Metro interrupted them. "Aight, y'all, listen to this." he said, motioning for everyone to gather around.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone