บท 121: Rich Homie Quan
Quan stood before a full-length mirror, adjusting his crisp white T-shirt and running a hand over his freshly trimmed fade. A mischievous grin spread across Quan's face, revealing a flash of gold grills.
"Yo, Arell! You ready bro?" Quan called out, his voice carrying over the muffled bass thumping through the walls.
Arell, sprawled on a worn leather couch, draped in a custom Infinity jacket, looked up from his phone. He returned Quan's call with a confident smirk. "You know it, man. But you got to show me that dance one more time.."
Quan's laughter, deep and genuine, seemed to lighten the mood in the crowded room. He motioned for Arell to join him in front of the mirror. "Alright, alright. Watch and learn, this right here? This is how we do it in Atlanta."
Quan took a deep breath, rolled his shoulders, and then began to move. His arms swung in wide, exaggerated arcs, hands open and fingers spread. Then came a quick lean back, followed by a smooth glide to the side.
"Oh shit!" someone in the crowd exclaimed. "Quan's hittin' it!"
"Ahhh, there it is!" one of the homies yelled, laughing as Quan repeated the move, this time adding a little bounce to it. Arell watched closely, nodding his head to the beat, ready to jump in.
"Alright, bet. Lemme see if I got this," Arell said, stepping up and mimicking Quan's stance. He hit the move, not quite as smooth as Quan, but close enough to get the room going wild.
"Yo, that's it, that's it!" Quan laughed, giving Arell a playful shove. "You just gotta put some swag on it, bro!"
Arell tried again, this time adding his own flair, hitting the Quan with a little extra bounce in his step. The rest erupted, cheering him on, the room filled with that unique energy that only happens when everyone's just vibing out together.
"Yeah, yeah! That's it!" Quan shouted, his voice nearly drowned out by the laughter and hype in the room. They were all caught up in the moment, just having fun.
"Man, remember when Quan first tried to dance at Lenox Mall?" Marcus called out, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. "Ay, swear he was gonna break something!"
Quan playfully pushed his friend. "Gotta start somewhere."
The laughter that followed was interrupted by a knock on the door. A stagehand poked his head in. "Five minutes, guys!"
"You ready to take this to the stage?" Quan asked, catching his breath but still grinning from ear to ear.
"Hell yeah, let's get it," Arell replied, feeling the adrenaline kick in.
As they headed towards the stage, the noise from the crowd outside grew louder. The lights dimmed, and the intro to Flex started booming through the speakers, the bass so deep you could feel it in your chest.
Quan led the way onto the stage, his presence commanding. As soon as the crowd saw him, they went wild.
Quan started the first verse, his voice smooth and raspy, the crowd rapping along with him word for word. When it came time for the hook, he didn't miss a beat—he hit the Quan dance right on cue, his hands snapping out to the side, his body moving in sync with the beat.
The crowd went wild, hands shooting into the air.
"Ooh, ooh, ooh."
The hook had everyone singing along instantly.
"Don't waste time, I got six watches."
The crowd went absolutely insane, a sea of hands shooting up in the air as they tried to mimic the dance. Arell couldn't help but smile as he watched his friend in his element.
"Pull up in that foreign, smooth criminal, hee-hee (Skrrt)," Arell jumped in, his verse flowing effortlessly over the beat. The crowd was right there with him, their energy lifting him up even more.
"Shorty ride or die, juice got her dizzy."
"Ooh, ooh, ooh."
As he rapped, Arell felt the rhythm take over. His body moved almost of its own accord, the steps Quan had taught him coming naturally now. He caught Quan's eye, and they shared a grin.
"Queen dripped in ice, neck like Aurora Borealis."
"My wrist cost your life savings, call it a life crisis."
The crowd was with him every step of the way, hands waving, voices joining in on the ad-libs.
"Backseat's a rodeo, she buckin' like a bronco"
"Ooh ooh ooh"
"I'm flexin' on these lames while they stuck in Bronx, though"
As Arell delivered these lines, he caught sight of a group in the front row, their faces lit up with excitement. He pointed at them, giving them a wink, and their cheers redoubled.
"Jewelry box lookin' like a bag of Skittles exploded"
"VIP poppin' bottles, champagne supernova, Pop it"
With these lines, Arell mimicked popping a champagne bottle, then smoothly transitioned into a body roll that had clearly been influenced by Quan's earlier lesson. The move wasn't perfect, but the crowd ate it up, their cheers spurring him on.
Quan hit the Quan again, this time turning to Arell and nodding for him to join in. Arell didn't hesitate—he hit the dance move right beside Quan, the two of them moving in perfect sync. The crowd ate it up, their cheers and screams echoing through the club.
"Hit that shit, Quan!" Arell shouted, hyping up his friend. Quan grinned and did exactly that, mixing the Quan with some other moves, throwing in a little spin and a shoulder roll that had everyone going crazy.
The chemistry between them was undeniable, the two of them playing off each other like they'd been performing together for years.
"Flex, flex, flex, that's our religion," Arell rapped, the final line hitting just as hard as the first. The beat dropped, and Quan hit the Quan one last time, bringing the house down.
The performance ended with the two of them standing side by side, breathing heavy but grinning from ear to ear. The crowd was still screaming, their energy almost overwhelming.
Quan turned to Arell, a serious look crossing his face for just a moment. "Yo, that was lit. Appreciate you for this, bro. For real."
Arell nodded, clapping Quan on the back. "You already know, bro. Anytime."
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