Michael III

January 29, 1990

The next day, Michael Jackson arrived at the studio, his mind still buzzing from the night before. He had promised Tupac he would be there, and now he was walking into the same space where the young rapper had been grinding away, pushing himself to the limit. Michael felt a mix of excitement and nervousness—this wasn't just another collaboration. This was Tupac Shakur, the voice of the streets, the artist with the power to make waves across the entire industry.

As he entered the studio, he immediately felt the energy. The beat was blaring from the speakers, and Michael couldn't help but nod along to it. It was infectious. But then, he realized something—this was the same beat he had heard on Tupac's track the night before. The one Tupac had rapped over with such fire. Michael didn't need to ask about it. He knew exactly what was happening.

"Yo, Michael!" Tupac called from the booth, his voice cutting through the music like a blade. The sound of Tupac's raw energy sent a rush through Michael. The kid was something else.

Michael stepped toward the booth, just in time to see Tupac finish his verse. The rapper stepped out, his eyes bright with intensity. His hands were raised, ready to exchange a handshake, and Michael couldn't help but smile.

"Yo, what up, Michael?" Tupac greeted him, his voice cool, but there was a sharpness to it that was all too familiar. A sense of purpose.

Michael returned the handshake, impressed by Tupac's casual demeanor despite his intense focus. But he knew this was all part of the package. Tupac wasn't just about the music—he was about making a statement with every move he made.

Tupac leaned back against the wall, folding his arms, his eyes scanning the room before landing on Michael. "Look, I gotta be real with you, Mike," Tupac began. "I can't rap on this type of pop beat, man. This... this isn't me. The best I can do, I can do, but I won't rap great on this type of beat. This pop stuff ain't my lane."

Michael raised an eyebrow, trying to hold back a grin. He knew Tupac wasn't one for pretenses, but this was something else. Here was one of the biggest artists of the era, telling him flat out what worked for him and what didn't.

"I get it," Michael said, leaning in, trying to understand where Tupac was coming from. "But I thought this was the vibe you wanted for the feature."

"Yeah, it's cool, but I need something more real, something that reflects where I come from," Tupac responded. "You gotta understand, in rapping, beats choose the artist, not the other way around. It's not like pop where you get a polished beat and you just work with it. Rappers need that rawness. They need something to drive them."

Michael took a moment to let that sink in. Tupac wasn't wrong. The music, the message, everything about it came from the raw energy of the streets. Michael knew he was hearing something important, something that could change the direction of their collaboration.

Before Michael could respond, Tupac casually reached into his pocket and pulled out a small joint, offering it to Michael. "You want a hit?" Tupac asked, grinning with that trademark devil-may-care smile.

Michael shook his head, politely passing on the offer. He'd never been one to indulge in that kind of thing, but it didn't bother him. Tupac was just being Tupac. Michael respected that.

As Tupac sat back down in the producer's chair, he got to work. He adjusted some settings on the mixing board and began talking through his ideas, the studio now humming with creativity.

"Look, Mike," Tupac said, eyes focused intently on the beat. "Here's the thing. I got an idea. What if we let this beat ride out, then—boom—middle of the track, the beat switches up completely. That's where I can come in. That's when I can really bring my heat. People won't expect it, and it's gonna hit harder than anything else you've got."

Michael listened, nodding along to the rhythm in his head. "A switch-up in the middle... I like it. Keeps the listener on their toes. It's unexpected. What else you got?"

Tupac leaned forward, his energy lighting up the room as he continued to sketch out his vision. "We don't need a huge budget for the video either, man. Just something simple, you know? We'll keep it raw—something that reflects who I am, who you are. But the surprise feature? That's what's going to set this whole thing off."

Michael's eyes widened. He hadn't even thought about the video yet, but Tupac was right. The visual could elevate the track, make it more than just a song. The collaboration between them could be something that shook the industry to its core. Tupac was full of ideas, but it was more than that—he had the kind of creativity that made everything seem possible.

Michael started to get a sense of how big this could be. Tupac wasn't just another artist to collaborate with—he was a force of nature. Working with him could be the turning point in Michael's own career.

"This is incredible," Michael said, genuinely impressed. "We've got something here, Pac. This is gonna blow up."

Tupac smiled, not giving the compliment too much weight. "It's gonna be bigger than that, Mike. People will be talking about this for years."

The two of them spent the rest of the night in the studio, tweaking the track, working out every detail. It was one of those rare moments where everything clicked. Tupac's vision was clear, his confidence unshakeable, and Michael was all in.

By the end of the night, they had a full plan laid out. Tupac would lay down his verse, and they'd finish the track. The beat switch would be exactly as Tupac had described it—unexpected, hard-hitting, raw. They were going to do it their way.

"Man, I'm serious," Tupac said as they packed up for the night. "You better be ready for this. This track's gonna be the one that defines both of us. It's bigger than just me or you—it's for the culture."

Michael smiled, feeling the energy radiating from Tupac. "I'm ready, Pac. Let's make it happen."

Tupac gave a small nod, his eyes sharp with focus. "Tomorrow. We get to work. But trust me, Mike, this is just the beginning."

As they left the studio, Michael was already thinking about the next steps. They had a week ahead of them, and he was about to spend every minute of it making history with Tupac.

To be continued…