White House

April 20th, 1989:

Eazy-e POV:

The day began with a sense of surreal anticipation. Eazy-E stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the navy-blue suit Jerry had insisted he wear. The polished black leather Oxfords felt stiff and foreign on his feet, but the suit fit like a glove. It was nothing like his usual look, and as he straightened his tie, he chuckled to himself. "Damn, Jerry. You really got me lookin' like a politician."

Outside, a sleek black sedan waited. As Eazy stepped into the car, the driver, dressed in a crisp uniform, opened the door for him. The interior smelled of fresh leather, and the quiet hum of the engine seemed to match the weight of the moment. The drive to the White House was filled with a mix of excitement and apprehension. This was the same place he'd only seen in movies, newspapers, and TV.

When they approached the White House gates, the car came to a slow stop. Uniformed Secret Service agents with K-9 units surrounded the vehicle, conducting a meticulous search. The dogs sniffed every corner, their handlers watching closely. One of the agents knocked on the car window, motioning for Eazy to lower it.

"Routine check," the agent said sternly.

Eazy nodded, trying to keep his cool. "Yeah, no problem."

After what felt like an eternity, the agents waved them through. As the gates opened and the car rolled forward, Eazy caught his first glimpse of the iconic building. The White House stood majestic, its white façade gleaming under the midday sun.

Eazy leaned forward, staring out the window. "Man," he muttered under his breath. "I've seen this in movies, on the news… but seein' it like this? This hits different. One day, I'm gonna get me a house like this."

The car came to a stop, and the driver opened the door for Eazy. As he stepped out, he took a moment to soak it all in. The perfectly manicured lawns, the massive columns, the American flag waving in the breeze—it was overwhelming.

A White House staffer approached, her demeanor professional but friendly. "Mr. Wright, welcome to the White House. Please follow me."

Eazy followed her through the entrance, his footsteps echoing against the marble floors. They passed grand hallways adorned with portraits of past presidents, the history of the place almost tangible. After a short wait in a sitting room, a staffer returned, signaling that it was time.

When Eazy entered the room, President Ronald Reagan stood waiting, his signature smile firmly in place. Eazy immediately extended his hand, which the President shook firmly.

"Mr. Wright," Reagan said warmly. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for coming."

Eazy nodded, keeping his tone respectful. "Thank you for having me, Mr. President."

Reagan gestured to the seating area. "Please, have a seat. Let's chat."

As they sat, Reagan leaned back, his expression friendly but curious. "I must say, I was hoping to meet Tupac as well. I hear he's feeling unwell?"

Eazy hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, Pac couldn't make it. He's under the weather, but I'm here to represent."

The President smiled. "I was looking forward to meeting him. I'm quite a fan, especially after the incident in New York. He's a powerful voice."

Eazy chuckled lightly, feeling the weight of the compliment. "Yeah, Pac's somethin' else. He's got a way with words."

After some small talk, Reagan's tone shifted slightly, becoming more serious. "Mr. Wright, I wanted to address something directly. There's been talk about banning certain hip-hop songs due to their content. I want to hear your thoughts on this."

Eazy straightened, his demeanor calm but firm. "With all due respect, Mr. President, banning hip-hop would be a mistake. People ain't just gonna sit back and let that happen. You'll have protests, fights, people standing up against the government. Hip-hop isn't just music—it's a voice for the voiceless. It's our way of telling our stories, our struggles. You take that away, and you're silencing millions."

Reagan listened intently, his expression thoughtful. "Millions, you say? That's a bold claim. How does hip-hop impact so many lives?"

Eazy leaned forward, his confidence growing. "Because of us, millions of albums are sold. We've shown the potential of hip-hop. Record labels are signing young artists every day, giving them opportunities to escape the streets. It's not just about the music—it's about the jobs. Producers, engineers, promoters, even people working at record stores. Hip-hop feeds families, Mr. President."

Reagan raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "I hadn't thought of it that way. You make a compelling argument, Mr. Wright."

Eazy allowed himself a small smile. "We're not just rappers, sir. We're businessmen. We're creators. And we're here to stay."

Reagan nodded slowly, a hint of admiration in his gaze. "You've given me a lot to think about. I'll tell you this, Mr. Wright—I won't support banning hip-hop. You have my word."

Eazy felt a surge of relief. "Thank you, Mr. President. That means a lot to us, to everyone."

Reagan stood, signaling that their time was up. Eazy followed suit, shaking the President's hand once more. "It's been a pleasure, Mr. Wright."

"The pleasure's mine, Mr. President."

As they left the meeting room, Eazy was surprised to find a crowd of reporters waiting in a grand hall. Cameras flashed, and microphones were thrust forward as Reagan walked beside him, a hand on Eazy's shoulder.

Reagan smiled for the cameras, his voice loud and clear. "It's been an honor to meet Mr. Wright. We had a productive conversation about the importance of hip-hop and its role in American culture."

The press snapped photos, and Reagan's friendly demeanor was on full display. Eazy couldn't help but notice how the President played to the cameras, as if this was all part of a bigger plan.

As they posed for photos, Eazy thought to himself, Man, this dude's a pro. He's workin' this angle hard.

The reporters fired questions, but Reagan expertly deflected, always steering the conversation toward unity and progress. Eazy played along, answering a few questions but staying cautious.

As the event wound down, Eazy left the White House feeling a mix of pride and unease. He'd gotten the promise he came for—hip-hop wouldn't be banned. But he couldn't shake the feeling that Reagan had his own agenda.

Walking back to the car, Eazy looked up at the White House one last time. It was a moment he'd never forget, but deep down, he knew the game of politics was far from over.

And somewhere in the back of his mind, he couldn't help but wonder what Pac would've said if he'd been there.

To Be Continued…

Author notes

By the way to Ronald already has service as a president two time so I'm the stoy the reason why he wants to use eazy-e for his successor to win the election. I don't want to rewrite the story. And thanks for motivating me one chapter free.

End