leaving the group

December 15th, 1989

The studio was alive with creativity that day. Everyone was in their zone, working on tracks for our upcoming album, 100 Miles and Runnin'. The beat bounced through the speakers, Dre was adjusting levels at the console, Ren was jotting down some bars, and Yella was cracking jokes from the corner. I was at my usual spot, pen in hand, scrawling lyrics in my notebook. The energy was good, the kind that made you feel like nothing could go wrong.

Then, Jerry Heller and Eazy-E walked in. Jerry had that salesman grin on his face, the one that usually meant he was about to pitch something. Eazy followed close behind, holding a stack of papers.

"All right, everybody," Jerry said, clapping his hands to get our attention. "I've got something important for you all to look at."

Everyone paused what they were doing. Jerry handed out the papers one by one, and I immediately started skimming through mine. It was a contract.

I looked up. "What's this?"

Jerry's grin widened. "It's the future of this group. This is your official contract with Ruthless Records. It's about solidifying your place here, ensuring long-term success for all of us."

The room was silent for a moment as everyone read through their copies. Dre furrowed his brow as he flipped through the pages. Ren leaned back in his chair, chewing on the end of his pencil. I scanned mine carefully, something not sitting right.

"This is for signing to Ruthless?" I asked.

Jerry nodded enthusiastically. "Exactly. This is about loyalty, about keeping the family together. We've been through so much together, and this is the next step. Trust me, it's in everyone's best interest."

As I kept reading, the red flags became more obvious. The contract was vague in crucial areas—royalties, ownership rights, the actual percentage of profits we'd see. It wasn't adding up.

"Jerry," I said, my voice cutting through the room. "Where's the rest of the contract?"

Jerry looked puzzled. "What do you mean, Tupac?"

"I mean, this thing is missing key details. How much are we getting in royalties? What's the split on the ownership of our music? You can't just give us this half-assed contract and expect us to sign it."

Jerry's grin tightened, but he tried to keep his tone calm. "Pac, this is standard. We've been through this before. You're overthinking it. This is about trust, about building something bigger than ourselves."

I set the paper down and stood up. "Nah, Jerry. This isn't about trust. This is about transparency. If you're asking us to sign our names on something that locks us in, you owe us the full details. Otherwise, this ain't happening."

The tension in the room was palpable. Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned their attention to me and Jerry.

"Tupac," Jerry said, his voice firmer now, "you're making this harder than it needs to be. I've been nothing but loyal to you guys. I've worked tirelessly to make Ruthless what it is today. Do you really think I'd screw you over?"

I crossed my arms. "It's not about what I think, Jerry. It's about what's on paper. And this paper doesn't add up."

Eazy-E stepped in, trying to diffuse the situation. "Pac, come on, man. Jerry's just trying to keep us on track. We've all been grinding together, and this is the next step."

I turned to Eazy, frustration bubbling in my chest. "E, you're really taking his side? You, of all people, know how this industry works. You know how they play us. And now you're backing him instead of your own brother?"

Eazy's expression hardened. "This isn't about sides, Pac. It's about what's best for the group. We've got something special here. Why are you trying to mess that up?"

The argument went back and forth, voices overlapping. Dre tried to step in, saying, "Let's just talk this out," but it was clear this was a battle between me, Jerry, and Eazy.

"Listen, Tupac," Jerry said, his voice sharp now. "This contract is about trust. If you can't trust me, then maybe you don't belong here."

I laughed bitterly. "Trust? You want me to trust you, Jerry? You've been living large off our work while we're still out here hustling. Don't think I haven't noticed. The fancy cars, the big house—that's all because of us. And now you want me to sign away my future? Nah, man. That's not trust. That's exploitation."

Eazy tried again. "Pac, just chill. This ain't the time to be throwing accusations around. We're a team, remember?"

"A team?" I snapped. "A team looks out for each other. A team doesn't hide the numbers. E, you're supposed to be my brother, but right now, you're acting like his puppet."

Eazy's face tightened, but he didn't respond.

I took a deep breath and turned to Eazy one last time.

"E," I said, my voice steady but full of disappointment. "This is it. You need to decide. Are you riding with me, your brother, or with this white-ass manager who's been playing us from the start?"

Eazy's eyes darted between me and Jerry. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but no words came out. The silence was deafening.

"That's what I thought," I said, shaking my head.

I gathered my things, ready to leave. Before walking out, I turned back to face everyone.

"I'm not leaving because of money," I said, my voice cutting through the tension. "If I wanted money, I would've left years ago, back when Jerry was giving us crumbs while making millions. I'm leaving because I can't trust you to be honest with me. And if you guys sign this, you're signing your lives away."

With that, I grabbed my contract, pulled out a lighter, and set it on fire. The flames consumed the paper as I tossed it onto the floor.

The room was silent as I walked to the door. Just before leaving, I looked back one last time.

"I'm saying this because I care," I said. "But if y'all can't see what's happening, then that's on you."

I slammed the door behind me, the echo reverberating through the studio.

The room stayed quiet for a long moment. The energy that had filled the studio earlier was gone, replaced by a heavy silence. Everyone looked around, unsure of what to say or do.

Finally, Dre sighed. "Man, that was some heavy shit."

Ren nodded. "I don't know, man. Pac might've had a point."

Yella stayed silent, his expression unreadable.

Eazy-E just stared at the door, his face a mix of anger, frustration, and something else—something that looked like regret.

Jerry was the first to speak. "Look, he's just emotional. He'll come around. We don't need to make a big deal out of this."

All of them knew that everything about the growp has changing the moment Tupac leaving the group because he is the pan of whole group were he has almost write the whole album by himself.

In the album Straight Outta Compton every hit song was ghostwrite by tupac....

To Be Continued…