Tupac POV -
After we wrapped up the "Straight Outta Compton" video, the energy around the crew was high. But there was no time to relax—we had one more videos to shoot, and I was ready to get into the next one: "Trapped." This track was personal. It wasn't just about Compton or the streets; it was about the system trapping people in situations they couldn't escape. And for the video, I wanted that feeling of being stuck in a system that's designed to hold you back.
But that meant we had to find a location that felt real, something gritty. I knew the prison visuals were going to be crucial to get the point across, so we needed a space that could make people feel the weight of the struggle.
We gathered again at Jerry's office to discuss logistics. Marcus, our director for the last video, was back in the mix, and we were getting down to business. We needed a place that looked like a real prison, but the budget was tight.
"Alright, so we're thinking prison," Jerry said, looking at the team. "But we don't have the cash to rent out a facility. We need something abandoned, something that feels lived-in."
Marcus nodded. "Yeah, we need authenticity. No fake bars. I'm thinking we can't afford a studio set, but we can find an old place, somewhere that's been forgotten."
"I know a few places," Dre piped up. "There's a spot on the outskirts of L.A. I heard about. It's an abandoned county jail. Haven't seen it in a while, but I know the area."
Eazy looked skeptical. "We gonna be able to get in there? It's probably locked up."
"Leave that to me," Dre said with a confident smirk. "We'll figure it out."
Marcus smiled. "Alright, let's roll. I'll bring the crew, and we'll go scout it out."
The next day, we made the trip out to the abandoned prison. It was a few miles outside of L.A., near an industrial zone. The building loomed in the distance, surrounded by a chain-link fence. It was definitely out of use—most of the windows were boarded up, and the outside looked like it hadn't seen any maintenance in years. It was exactly what we were looking for.
We parked across the street, and Dre led the way. We slipped through a hole in the fence and made our way toward the entrance. The place was silent, the air thick with the smell of rust and decay.
"This is perfect," Marcus said, looking around. "It's got the vibe we need. But we'll have to clean it up a bit before we shoot."
"Yeah, it's a mess," I said, running my hand along a rusty metal bar. "But it's real. This is the kind of place I'm talking about."
Dre gave me a look. "You sure you're gonna be okay in here, Pac? I know this ain't exactly a hotel."
I shrugged. "It's fine. It's a prison. I want people to feel trapped, feel the weight. We can make this work."
We spent the next few hours walking through the facility, mapping out shots. There were long hallways with peeling paint, old cells that still had bars, and a central area that would be perfect for the larger scenes. Marcus had a vision for how the shots would play out: tight, claustrophobic angles, with a lot of movement, almost as if the camera itself was trapped.
By the end of the day, we had the layout of the video in our heads. But now we needed to make it happen—cleaning the place, organizing the crew, and making sure we could shoot safely.
Dre, Eazy, and the rest of the crew pitched in. We rented some cleaning supplies and started clearing out the space. The floors were dirty, and some of the cells were filled with debris. But we made it work. I remember laughing at how quickly everyone got into it, moving boxes and setting up lights. It was a different side of the business, but it felt real—everybody working together to build something that would speak to the streets.
"Yo, Dre," I called out, "what do you think about this area for the opening shot?"
Dre came over and looked it over. "Yeah, this'll work. But we need to make sure we get enough light in here. We want that dark, gritty feeling, but not so dark we can't see your face."
"Right," I said. "And for the chorus, we should be in the yard. Get a few extras to stand around, maybe make it look like we're in a cage."
Eazy laughed. "Yeah, get some of those fools who wanna be on TV. We'll make it look real."
Marcus, who had been quietly observing, finally spoke up. "I like it. We'll get some good shots here. Let's get everything set up by tomorrow."
The next day, we were ready to start shooting. Marcus had brought in a small crew—three cameramen, a couple of lighting guys, and a sound engineer. It wasn't a big operation, but that was part of the charm. We didn't need all the fancy Hollywood equipment; we needed authenticity.
The first shot was simple: me in one of the cells, bars close behind me. I had my back to the camera at first, but when I turned around, I knew it had to be intense. We had the song playing in the background, and I had to channel the frustration, the feeling of being trapped in a system that was never going to let me out.
"Pac, I need that anger," Marcus said, standing off to the side. "This is your moment to show the struggle. We're not just making a video—we're telling a story."
I nodded, closed my eyes, and let the words come to me. When the camera rolled, I let the verse fly, every line filled with raw emotion. By the time we finished, everyone on set was quiet, nodding in approval.
"Perfect, man," Dre said, clapping me on the shoulder. "That's what we need."
We spent the last day getting the final shots. The scene in the yard was chaotic—extras walking around, making noise, and adding to the prison atmosphere. It wasn't glamorous, but it felt real. The contrast of the prison walls with the energy of the crowd outside gave it the exact vibe we were going for.
Marcus kept us moving, making sure the shots were tight and meaningful. By the end of the day, we had everything we needed. The prison had served its purpose—it wasn't just a backdrop, it became part of the story.
"Alright, Pac," Marcus said as we wrapped up. "This video's is going to be great. We've got everything we need."
I nodded, exhausted but proud. "I can't wait for people to see it. This is a really a great song."
By the end July of we wrapped up the edits for Straight Outta Compton and Trapped, it was late July. The pressure was building, and I could feel the weight of it all—the anticipation, the hype, the responsibility. The grind had been relentless, but the payoff was finally in sight. T
he videos weren't just promotional tools, they were our statements. They were part of the movement, part of what was coming. We didn't have big budgets or a media empire behind us, but we had what counted: authenticity and hunger.
We had one goal in mind—build enough buzz so that by the time the album dropped on August 8th, it'd feel like an event. And the plan had to be smart, not just about being seen but about being felt. The streets needed to see us, feel the energy, and know that we weren't just making noise for the sake of it. This was bigger than that.