The Offer on the Table

The morning after the freestyle, I woke up to my phone buzzing like crazy. Notifications flooded in—every social media platform, every blog, every group chat I was in. My freestyle had done numbers. Miami was talking. I wasn't just the guy spitting bars at block parties anymore. I was the guy who just caught the city's attention. But with that came the pressure, the weight of the moment.

I spent the whole morning scrolling through texts, DMs, and comments, trying to figure out what was next. I wasn't dumb—I knew a big decision was coming. And it hit me even harder when another message popped up from the same unknown number I'd gotten the night before.

This time, it wasn't just a simple text. It was an email. A big one.

Limitless Records Contract

Subject: The Next Move for KJ

I opened it, my heart pounding.

There it was—a contract, laying out everything they wanted from me and everything they were offering.

Contract Summary

Artist: KJ

Label: Limitless Records

Offer:

• Advance: $200,000 upfront

• Album Deadline: 1 year

• Royalty Rate: 15% of all sales

• Production Costs: Covered by the label, but recoupable

• Touring: 60% of profits, label takes 40%

• Merchandising: 70% of profits, label takes 30%

• Exclusive Rights: 3 albums over 5 years

• Exit Clause: Option for label to terminate after 2 albums if sales targets are not met

• Creative Control: Full control of lyrics and themes, but label approval for singles and videos

I stared at the screen, my mind racing. The offer sounded good—really good. $200,000 upfront could set me up. But the fine print… It was like a shadow hovering over the bright numbers. Recoupable production costs. That meant they'd front the cash to make the album, but I'd have to pay it back once the music started selling. But what if it didn't sell? I'd be stuck with a debt I couldn't shake.

I rubbed my eyes, trying to focus on the rest of the terms. The 60/40 split on tour profits didn't sit right with me either. I knew how hard the road was, how much work it took to make a show pop. The label didn't need to take the bigger share. Then there was the exit clause—if the label didn't hit their sales targets, they could pull the plug after two albums. That felt like they were hedging their bets, giving themselves an out.

There was too much at stake for me to rush into this. I needed advice. Real advice. Someone I could trust.

I pulled up my contacts and dialed the number for Tio Luis—a family friend who was a lawyer. He'd known me since I was a kid, and I'd seen him navigate all kinds of contracts over the years. He wasn't flashy, but he had a reputation for being straight with people.

He picked up on the second ring.

"KJ, what's good, kid?" Tio Luis's voice had that familiar warmth, the one that always made me feel like everything would be alright.

"I need your help, Tio," I said, my voice tight. "I got a deal from Limitless Records, and I don't know what to make of it. I'm looking at the contract right now, but the numbers… they don't add up the way they should."

I could hear him shift in his chair, the way he did when he was paying close attention. "Alright, I'm listening. Send it over, and I'll look it over with you."

I didn't waste time. I forwarded the email and sat back, tapping my fingers on the table while I waited.

A few minutes later, my phone buzzed.

"Alright, KJ. I got it in front of me. Let's go over this thing line by line."

I sat up straight. This was it. The moment where I'd get the truth.

"First thing's first. The advance," he started, "$200,000 upfront. Sounds great, right? But remember, that's not free money. They're going to recoup that from your earnings. Meaning, if you don't make that back from album sales, tours, and merch, you're on the hook for it. And with the way labels work, that could take a while."

My stomach dropped. I had already figured that part, but hearing it out loud made it real.

"Alright," I said, "what about the touring split?"

"60/40. You get 60, they take 40. That's not terrible by industry standards, but trust me, KJ, touring is where the real money is. If you're out on the road grinding, and they're taking 40 percent of the revenue, that adds up quick. You need to make sure you're getting your fair share."

I let that sink in. Touring wasn't just a side hustle for artists; it was the bread and butter. And if they were taking 40 percent of that, I'd have to work twice as hard to make up the difference.

"Now, let's talk about that exit clause," Tio Luis continued. "If they don't hit their sales targets, they can cut you loose after two albums. That means if you don't make them the money they expect in a short amount of time, they can drop you like a bad habit. No artist wants to be in that position, especially not with someone like Limitless. They're looking for the next big thing, and if you don't hit, they're not sticking around."

My heart started to beat a little faster. The pressure was real, and the risk was high. One bad album, and it could all come crashing down.

"And creative control?" I asked, swallowing hard.

"You've got full control over your lyrics, but they'll have final say on the singles and videos," he said. "That's not ideal, but it's standard. You're still gonna be the one writing the music, but they'll decide what goes mainstream. You need to think about whether you're okay with that."

I stared out the window, the weight of the decision settling over me like a cloud. I wasn't some puppet, but the reality was, the industry didn't hand you the keys to the kingdom unless you played by their rules. I had to decide if this was the deal I wanted to make.

"So, what do you think?" I asked, my voice almost a whisper.

Tio Luis took a long pause. "It's a solid offer, KJ. But you need to make sure you're not signing away your future just for a quick payday. These terms aren't awful, but they're not the best either. You're going to have to give a little to get in, but don't let them take too much. There's room to negotiate here."

I took a deep breath. The advice was clear, but it didn't make the decision any easier.

Tio Luis continued, "And remember, you don't have to sign this right away. They're probably rushing you, trying to lock you down before someone else snatches you up. Take your time."

I sat back in my chair, the contract still open in front of me. The numbers were staring back at me, but now they felt like a test. One I wasn't sure I was ready to pass.

"Alright," I said finally, "I'll call them back in a couple of hours. I need to think it over."

"You do that," Tio Luis said. "Just make sure whatever you decide, it's what's best for you in the long run."

I hung up, my mind racing. The pressure of the moment felt heavier than ever. Limitless was ready to lock me in, but did I want to be locked in? Was this the right deal, or was I setting myself up for something I couldn't control?

I took a look around my room, the faded posters on the walls, the worn-out sneakers on the floor. Nothing had changed, but everything felt different. I was about to make a decision that could alter the rest of my life.

I scrolled through my phone, saw the messages and comments piling up. People were waiting for me to make my move. But was I ready to make the biggest move of my life?

I leaned forward, staring at the contract again.

The phone rang in my hand. Limitless Records.

I inhaled sharply. I had to make my choice.

Would I sign, or would I walk away?