Chicago 1990

　　 In the last week of the promotion, Song Ya returned to New York.

　　 "This week."

　　 In the back room of a small gold shop in China Street, Brooklyn, Song Ya threw a small handbag to NAS, "Say hello to Rakim for me."

　　 NAS opened the handbag and roughly dialed a neat stack of twenty and fifty dollars in it, totaling twenty thousand. "Yeah." He nodded, zipped up the zipper, and stuffed it into his arms.

　　 "Okay, let's go out."

　　 Song Ya patted him on the shoulder, and the two walked to the store, Dila and Al were discussing with the Chinese proprietress holding the design drawings.

　　 "Golden, yes, the necklace should be thick, and the two letters A+ on the tag should be covered with rhinestones. We want the feeling of blingbling, and we will set three."

The gold chain given by Lao Qiao was robbed by a Cuban. Singing a rap song like RememberTheName is nothing like that. I heard that black hip-hop singers make jewelry in this shop. Song Ya took advantage of coming to New York and designed it by herself. The tag is set, one for each of the three lead singers.

　　 "Choose one too, NAS." When paying the bill, Song Ya saw NAS eagerly looking around in the glittering shop, and said politely.

　　 "Really?" NAS looked at him.

　　 "Yeah, it's all tired of logging, you're welcome..." Song Ya took out the checkbook and shook him.

　　NAS pointed to a thick gold chain on the wall and asked the lady boss to take it down.

　　 "You kid...you're really not being polite to me..." Song Ya's face turned black, and her mouth became "cool." According to the total price calculated by the boss, he signed the check.

　　 "YO……"

NAS put the gold chain around his neck, "Tired of logging, ah..." He made a lot of affection, and took the initiative to stretch out his fist. Song Ya touched him, and he patted the handbag in his arms, "I will do your business. Finished."

　　 "It's all up to you." Song Ya waved and watched him go out.

　　 "APLUS, come, let's take a picture." The proprietress took out the camera.

　　 Song Ya pushed down Al's arm that was in contrast to the GD gang gesture, and took a picture with her.

　　 was tapping, the pager rang, it was Walter.

　　 "Come to the headquarters, Mr. Motula wants to see you." Walter said concisely.

　　 Song Ya hurried to Columbia Records headquarters. In the palace-like office on the top floor, he met the tall and handsome head of Columbia Records.

　　 "APLUS, your first order is good, congratulations." Motura walked out from behind the desk and held out her hand.

　　 "Thank you for the compliment, Mr. Motura." Song Ya shook his hand.

　　 "Sit down."

Motula led him to sit on the sofa on the other side of the office. "The bulletin board will be ninth in the third week, and it may fall to the eighth in the fourth week. It is very stable. I heard from the sales department that it will soon reach a platinum record Is it?"

"Yes."

　　 "The tricks you used are very simple and effective, did you know? If it were me, I wouldn't release Ifeelitcoming alone. I would just let it lie quietly on the album and make a strong single."

　　 "This is my first single after all."

　　 "I know, I know your psychology very well, so I greeted Philby in Philadelphia, did you see his short comment in Rolling Stone?"

　　 "I saw it, he sneered at me."

"Haha..." Motula laughed, "Sometimes the truth is reversed, don't you think that after he said so, the hatred of MJ fans towards you disappeared? The third and fourth weeks have a lot of sales. I watched Philby’s short commentary and contributed by MJ fans."

　　 "That's how it is." Song Ya understood in an instant, it seemed to be the reason.

　　 "I heard Walter said that you are preparing for the second song? Do you still want to release a single?"

　　 "Yes, the second song will be a rap song."

　　 "Pay attention to control. There are more than a dozen songs on an album. You cannot release a single for every capital. Five songs should be the upper limit."

"I know."

　　 The two chatted for a while, and Motura walked to the bar, "Bourbon? Gin? Or tequila?"

　　 "Uh, gin is good."

　　 Motula poured two glasses of wine, took them and handed them to Song Ya. After the two had a taste, he said, "I heard Walter said that you and Mary can talk very well."

"Uh……"

　　 Song Ya watched each other carefully, as if he didn't mean to ask the teacher, "Yes, Miss Kelly and I had a little misunderstanding before, but then we became good friends."

　　 "She doesn't have many friends in New York, you can get together more if you have nothing to do." Motura put down her glass.

　　 "Okay." Song Yaxin said that you told me to get together more.

　　 "emmmm……"

　　 Motula crossed her fingers on her lap, showing a look of embarrassment. After thinking about it for a long time, she said: "Something, we have a little dispute, can you help me persuade her?"

"You say."

"Is such that……"

Through Motula’s narration, Song Ya understood that with Mariah Carey’s popularity, the usual demeanor of the black community began. Like MJ’s current dilemma, “not black enough”, this has become The black group attacked her target.

　　In some aspects, I guess I will be attacked by this kind of attack in the future, and I can't avoid it.

　　 But Mariah Carey’s way of dealing with it is a little different. She thinks that since I'm all said that I am not dark enough, why should I just go for a tanning? Just at the end of the month, the Grammy Awards made a new appearance, suppressing the negative comments of the black community. Anyway, this kind of tanning behavior is very common in the United States, because the wealthy white people have money and leisure to go to the beach, and at the same time they sunburn themselves. Those who have no money and no leisure have to use a kind of sunbathing equipment in the city. His skin also looks like he just came back from the beach.

　　 And this idea was firmly opposed by Motula, and the two quarreled.

　　 Mariah Carey thinks that since she is half black anyway, it’s okay to be a tanner, and no one would say she’s ‘black enough’.

　　 "You know, I like her, I like her now..."

Motula carefully said, "Of course, this does not mean that I am a racist who dislikes black skin and ugly. I signed MJ, signed you, signed a large number of African-American singers, and this year I plan to give some street singers Rapper opportunity. And Mary, she has overreacted, do you know what I mean?"

　　 "I understand, I understand, I am also a mixed race, I feel the same as Miss Kelly's attack." Song Ya comforted him.

　　 "Yes, that's why I came to you."

　　 "Don't worry, I will persuade Miss Kelly."

　　 Song Ya took over this errand. In the evening, Walter had already arranged to have another dinner together. It was still a few of them, or the French restaurant.

　　 But this time, Walt, David Cole and Roberto Clevere have made excuses to leave early.

　　 "They are so boring."

　　 Mariah Carey complained, raised her hand to greet the waiter and poured another glass of red wine, "Ha, Walt is not here, you are not allowed to inform." She winked at Song Ya.

　　 "Don't worry, am I that kind of person?" Song Ya pulled the chair closer, "Are you busy lately?"

　　 "In addition to recording songs, I am preparing to participate in the Grammys. By the way, you can give me some advice..."

　　 She took out a Gucci catalogue of fine evening wear from her bag, "I plan to wear this one." She pointed to a white evening wear.

"Why don't you choose the black one next to it, it suits your skin." Song Ya deliberately pointed to another black style with diamond trim and shoulder straps and said: "And it's very shiny~www.ltnovel.com~ judges You won’t be able to look away."

　　 "Wow, you have the same eyes as my stylist."

　　 She unknowingly entered Song Ya's language trap, "But my skin will become a little darker by then, this one is not so suitable."

　　 "A little bit darker?"

　　 "Yeah, I plan to do tanning during this time."

　　 "Why? In my eyes, you are the perfect woman now!"

　　 "Hehe, your kid, your mouth is so sweet." Mariah Carey smiled and hit him on the shoulder, "You don't know what those DJs say about me."

　　 "What are you talking about? Not dark enough?"

　　 "Yes." She took a sip of red wine.

　　 "Hahaha!"

　　 Song Ya laughed pretentiously, "Why don't I know, I am also a mixed race, they also said that I am not dark enough."

"is it?"

　　 "Of course, you don't care about them, really, you don't understand those DJs."

Song Ya said: "I'm not like you, the princess of Columbia Records. I often deal with these big and small DJs when running B-List promotion. I know them too well. As long as they are mixed, they will say you. If you’re not dark enough, you’re not your own person. If you make yourself dark, do you know what they will say about you?"

　　 "What do you say about me?"

"They will say that you are a'fake' black man! Believe me, you are destined to not please them. How can they shut up because of the DISS beat rate? And if you let them know that you care about their comments, They will only become more and more unscrupulous, and nothing else, just to provoke your reaction, just like a neighbor’s little boy likes to deliberately cry a girl, they are so cheap.