Chapter 010
Chapter 010
The air inside the hideout changed.
Just moments ago, it had felt like a celebration.
But after B.I.G’s diss track started playing, the whole place had gone sharp and tense.
And right in the middle of that taut atmosphere—twitch, twitch, twitch.
Shotgun’s fingers were twitching.
Expressionless.
His eyes were still unreadable behind the sunglasses.
The index and middle fingers of his right hand were moving in the air as though riding a rhythm, and the speed kept getting faster.
Twitch twitch twitch twitch.
…He’s counting the beat.
B.I.G’s diss track had not even finished yet.
And this bastard was already calculating the next move.
He was building the skeleton of a response diss in his head.
“Yo, no way…”
“Wait, wait. The other guy’s diss track isn’t even over yet?”
“Shotgun’s already preparing the clapback?!”
“On my mama, that’s what a real genius is! Fucking genius! No words even needed!”
“This is insane! He’s not human! He’s a god!”
That was right.
B.I.G’s diss track had dropped only a few minutes ago, and the hideout was still drowning in rage.
No one had even brought up the idea of a response diss.
Because no one’s brain had gotten that far yet.
But Shotgun was preparing a response before the diss track had even ended.
“SHEEEESH!”
“Ayyy, look at those eyes! He’s completely in the Zone!”
“Don’t touch him! Nobody touch him!”
“Inspiration’s got him!”
That was when—
“SHUT THE FUCK UP!”
At Big Joe’s single shout, every mouth snapped shut.
“If you mess with him now, all the inspiration’s gonna vanish.”
Big Joe slowly bent down and picked up the cigar that had fallen to the floor.
The hideout went silent.
The twitching won’t stop!
Park Geon was screaming inside.
It was a stress spasm.
His brain had overloaded from realizing that even the Bloods had him in their sights now.
This had happened a few times when he’d been doing LSAT practice tests too, but back then, it had stopped after ten minutes.
(Translator’s Note:LSAT (Law School Admission Test) - A standardized exam used for law school admissions in the United States.
Now it was getting worse and worse.
Because the source of the stress was multiplying in real time right in front of him!
The Crips got me, the Bloods know my name now, and now I’m even tangled up in diss tracks too?
Twitch twitch twitch twitch.
Park Geon had lost control of his fingers.
Just as he finally clenched his hand into a tight fist—
“So, where’s the response diss?”
Big Joe asked.
Park Geon froze in place.
Is he… forcing me to come up with a response diss right now?
From Park Geon’s point of view, he understood absolutely none of the context before or after.
He was about to say he had no idea what Big Joe was talking about—but then his eyes met Big Joe’s.
And at that moment—
“…Almost there.”
His mouth, desperate to stay alive, moved on its own.
“OHHH!”
The hideout exploded.
“Nah! You hear that?!”
“Ayyy! This is what a fucking genius really is! I told you, words aren’t enough!”
Big Joe rose from the sofa.
“We go to the studio right now. A diss war is a battle of speed.”
“……”
“He dropped his in three hours. That means the clock is still ticking this very second.”
He looked at Lil D.
“You’re not thinking of backing out, are you?”
Lil D’s eyes were already on fire.
“I’m ready, OG.”
And just like that, they left the hideout.
Crenshaw Boulevard in the dead of night.
Streetlights swept past the car windows.
The moment the studio door opened, Park Geon got straight to work.
“……”
He had to make something.
If he didn’t, he would die.
And if the Crips got pushed back by the Bloods in a diss war, that rage might turn this way!
A diss track has to be aggressive. A beat violent enough to overpower the other side.
The patterns of the diss tracks he had listened to hundreds of times on YouTube unfolded in his head.
He raised the BPM.
Switched the hi-hat from double-time to triplets.
Layered the snare twice and fed it distortion.
His fingers didn’t stop.
Every drawer in his brain had opened again.
This state where survival instinct drove his brain at full capacity.
It had been like that during the DJing too, and during the first beat he made as well.
When your life was on the line, a human being could pull out something beyond their limits.
Adrenaline released the limiter on the brain.
And Lil D was standing there watching him blankly, pen in hand.
Shit.
That crazy bastard.
Lil D bit down on his lower lip.
…Is that what a real genius looks like?
Lil D had always believed he was a genius.
At thirteen, his first freestyle had made the older guys in the neighborhood stand there with their mouths open, and at fifteen, when he made his first mixtape, Big Joe had reached out to him.
You’ve got talent.
So he had always been certain.
I’m a genius.
In this hood, in this scene, no one stood above me in musical talent.
But—
What is that?
What exactly was that monster?
…The beat is getting finished faster than I can write the lyrics.
No.
He couldn’t lose.
If the beat was finished before his lyrics, then even the last scraps of his pride would be smashed to pieces.
Lil D’s pen sped up.
It started racing across the notebook.
He absolutely could not fall behind that pace.
…Good.
The first verse came out.
The next verse followed immediately after.
And then more verses started pouring out behind them.
Interaction.
When Park Geon sped up, Lil D sped up too.
Seeing that, Park Geon panicked inwardly with a Hiiik! and pushed his speed even higher.
Seeing that, Lil D bit down harder on his lip and moved his pen even faster.
…Each of them was chasing the other.
B.I.G’s diss track went up on SoundCloud exactly three hours after the performance at The Vault ended.
The title was [LOCAL MIC].
—B.I.G dropped a Lil D diss track.
└Damn, in only 3 hours? That’s crazy.
└Why is a major rapper coming at an underground rapper?
└Isn’t this basically Bloods vs. Crips?
└Hardcore fans already know, but B.I.G and Lil D have had bad blood for a while.
—Damn, but the diss track is fire.
└Well, B.I.G’s always been good.
└No wonder he’s a major rapper if he can put out this quality in 3 hours.
The reaction was explosive.
B.I.G was a major rapper.
A guy with millions of monthly listeners on Spotify had publicly targeted a South LA underground rapper with a diss track.
There was no way it wouldn’t become a talking point.
—But who’s Lil D?
└Crips-affiliated rapper. South LA underground.
└Guess you’ve never heard of him because he’s underground.
└But in the hood he’s famous as hell.
└He’s probably secretly grateful B.I.G even acknowledged him.
└What bullshit are you saying? This diss just stamped him harder as a rapper who only plays underground. That’s bad for his career.
Image mattered for rappers.
As an extreme example:
you could tell just by looking at how the scene might overlook masculine-coded crimes, but the second it was something pathetic like sexual crime or theft, a rapper got buried immediately.
—Who’s the Asian guy they’re talking about?
└The guy who DJed at The Vault show. (photo)
└Oh, he’s got a vibe though?
For the moment, the narrative advantage was on B.I.G’s side.
B.I.G had launched the first strike, and Lil D had not answered yet.
And then, exactly two hours after B.I.G’s diss track dropped,
a new track went up on Lil D’s SoundCloud.
The title: [Small]
Rap name: B.I.G.
BIG.
The opposite word to match him against.
And in the track info was one line:
[Prod. SHOTGUN]
—It’s up!!!!
—Lil D dropped the response diss.
└Wait, it’s only been 2 hours, though?
└B.I.G did it in 3 hours and this came in 2???
When people hit play—
Boom, boom-boom. Screeeech—
The beat was different from the very first bar.
If B.I.G’s diss had been aggressive trap, Lil D’s response went one level heavier.
The 808 felt like it was drilling into the earth.
Over it, a sharp synth lead rose like it was tearing through the air.
—This is insane lol
└Goosebumps from the first verse.
└First time I’ve heard Lil D but damn, his rap delivery is sticky as hell.
└But this came out in only 2 hours?
└The beat is crazy good too.
└Who the hell is SHOTGUN?
└Maybe that Asian guy B.I.G mentioned?
└The beat is way better than B.I.G’s.
The reaction began to flip.
An underground rapper had answered a major rapper’s diss faster than the major had fired his opening shot.
—But just judging by the song itself, isn’t B.I.G’s a little better?
└A major rapper isn’t major for no reason.
└Listen to the latter half of Lil D’s verse 2.
└Okay, fair.
└The emotional line is insane though.
└The part about the streets gave me chills.
Opinion split.
Lil D dominated in speed, while the track quality divided people.
But the flow of comments gradually started leaning to one side.
—Honestly, even just as a song, Lil D’s is better though?
└B.I.G sounded like he was just hating, but Lil D sounded like he wrote it coughing up blood. The emotion’s different.
└If the song is good, the lyrics hit, and he answered faster, then this is a clear decision win for Lil D.
└If B.I.G ends it here, this is gonna be a huge loss for him.
└Then why did he even start it?
—Honestly though, if a major rapper throws a diss at an underground rapper and gets answered in this quality within 2 hours, isn’t that embarrassing for B.I.G?
└The weight classes are different and he’s still getting pushed back.
└If B.I.G doesn’t have a next move, he just loses.
└And this is tied up with gang politics too.
The head of Redline Records.
The man in charge of the Bloods’ music business.
And a Blood lieutenant.
“……”
Marcus was staring down at his phone.
He stayed like that for a while, then raised his head.
B.I.G, who had been resting on the sofa after writing the diss track in three hours, was forced to meet his eyes.
“Brian.”
Marcus had used his real name.
There were only two situations where Marcus used his real name:
when making him sign a contract, or when grabbing him by the back of the neck.
“A response diss dropped.”
“…What? Already?”
“In two hours.”
“If it was done in two hours, then the quality must be—”
“Shut up.”
“……”
“The quality is not what you should be worrying about right now.”
Marcus strode over.
“Look at the internet.”
He shoved the screen right in front of B.I.G’s face.
Comments were pouring in rapidly.
When B.I.G saw the reaction, his temples burned.
“What? They’re saying it came out in 2 hours and the quality is good too?”
“Not just good. Some of them are saying it’s better than yours, right now!”
Marcus, Blood lieutenant, jabbed his finger hard into B.I.G’s chest.
“Why did you touch him? Why the hell did you?”
“……”
“Why is a major rapper coming at an underground rapper?! How does it affect your career what Lil D does at The Vault?! It doesn’t!”
Marcus’s voice rose another notch.
“And on top of that, the response diss dropped in 2 hours! You’re behind him on time too!”
B.I.G clenched his teeth hard.
Irritation surged up.
And then that irritation turned somewhere else.
“This bastard…”
B.I.G snatched up his phone.
He pointed at the track info for Lil D’s diss.
“Prod by SHOTGUN. What the hell kind of bastard is this guy?”
It made no sense that a beat of that quality had come out in under two hours.
A guy with no name had appeared out of nowhere and flipped the whole board on its head.
“You stupid son of a bitch!”
Marcus shouted.
In the old days, he would have thrown a punch first, but since B.I.G was now active in the major scene, he barely held himself back.
“The Asian guy you dissed!”
“…Fuck!”
B.I.G kicked the sofa.
“I’m dropping a second diss right now. I’m going straight into the studio. Give me an hour thirty.”
Marcus grabbed B.I.G by the shoulder.
Tight.
“You confident?”
“If I wasn’t, would I be saying this?”
“Move now.”
B.I.G moved immediately.
He dragged in a producer from the next room by the collar, locked down the direction of the beat on the spot, and started writing lyrics while testing flow at the same time.
Every minute felt like being cut with a knife.
“You have to drop before two hours. You understand?”
“Two hours is impossible—”
B.I.G shot him a murderous look.
The producer nodded silently.
A fight with a career on the line.
If he fell behind here, the label would follow him forever.
Lil D, when the hell did this bastard get so big all of a sudden?
His rap skill wasn’t even comparable to before, and the density of his lyrics had risen sharply too.
The Lil D he remembered could never have delivered something like this.
If that was the case…
…Shotgun?
He scowled hard.
For a brief second, he wondered if maybe he never should have touched him in the first place.
But regret came too late now.
Yeah. That’s it.
He decided instead to use that as diss material.
The moment the thought crossed his mind, his pen started moving.
“To Shotgun… bendin’ over… spreadin’ for him… look at you makin’ noise…”
He wrote whatever came out of his mouth.
Before he knew it, he was dragging Shotgun into the insults too, cursing the two of them together rather than along his original angle.
Recording.
They kept the first take immediately.
There was no time for revisions.
The mix was minimal.
They touched only the EQ and skipped mastering entirely.
He checked the clock.
About one hour and forty minutes.
“Hoo…”
He uploaded it to SoundCloud immediately.
Then the moment it was up, he collapsed onto the recording-room sofa.
Now he had won the battle of time too.
He closed his eyes.
Fatigue washed over him belatedly like a tide.
His eyelids grew heavy—
BANG!
The door flew open like it was about to break off the hinges.
B.I.G shot upright.
Still half asleep, he looked toward the door and saw Marcus standing there.
“You little shit!”
“……”
“They answered again in forty minutes this time!”
Marcus shoved the screen right in front of B.I.G’s face.
[SHOTGUN TO YOUR FACE]
And underneath it—
[Lyrics by SHOTGUN]