The day after our album dropped, the studio was alive with energy. The kind of energy you could almost reach out and touch. Phones were ringing off the hook, people were darting in and out of rooms, and the sound of our tracks blaring from the speakers felt like a victory lap.
Jerry Heller, our manager, burst into the room, his arms stacked high with newspapers and magazines. He looked like he'd just raided every newsstand in Los Angeles. "Alright, everyone, gather around," he said, dropping the pile onto the table with a loud thud. "You're gonna want to see this."
Eazy, yella, Dre, and I crowded around, flipping through the headlines. Almost every publication had something to say about the album we'd released just the day before.
"N.W.A Takes Over the Charts!"
"The West Coast's Rawest Group Yet."
"Revolutionary or Reckless? N.W.A Pushes Boundaries."
Dr. Dre grabbed a copy of L.A. Source, scanning the article until his eyes locked onto something. He cleared his throat and started reading aloud. "They're calling the album groundbreaking but… 'one song threatens to overshadow its brilliance.'"
Eazy-E leaned back in his chair, smirking. "Let me guess—'F**k the Police.'"
Cube, flipping through another article, nodded. "Yep, they're all saying the same thing. 'The track is dangerous,' 'It incites violence,' 'It's going to ruin the group.'"
"Dangerous?" I said, shaking my head with a slight laugh. "It's the truth."
Jerry let out a long sigh, rubbing his temples as if he could physically massage the stress away. "They're not wrong about one thing—it's a risk. A big one."
---
The Letter from the FBI
As we were wrapping up the last of the articles, a knock came at the door. One of the engineers got up and returned a few moments later, holding an envelope.
"It's addressed to you guys," he said, handing it to Jerry.
The envelope was pristine—crisp and official-looking, with the FBI logo stamped prominently on the front. A chill ran through the room. Jerry's face went pale as he tore it open.
The letter inside was neatly typed on formal stationery:
> To the members of N.W.A and Priority Records,
We acknowledge the recent release of your album and the song "F**k the Police." While we respect the rights of artists to express their opinions, we must convey our concern regarding the potential implications of such a track. The song's content could incite hostility and unrest, posing a threat to public safety.
We strongly urge you to consider removing this track from your album for the good of the community.
Sincerely,
[Name Redacted]
Federal Bureau of Investigation
Jerry read the letter aloud, his voice trembling by the end. When he looked up, his expression was frozen in shock. "This… this is bad. Really bad."
Tupac snatched the letter and skimmed it. "Man, they're just asking. Ain't no threats in here."
Jerry shook his head, gripping the letter tightly. "Are you kidding me? This is the FBI. They don't have to threaten you—they're the damn FBI! We should remove the song. Immediately."
Eazy-E and I exchanged a glance. That single look was all it took. We didn't need words to know what the other was thinking. This letter wasn't a problem; it was an opportunity.
---
The Plan
"Jerry," Eazy said, resting a hand on his shoulder, "imagine the headlines if this gets out. 'FBI Targets N.W.A.' We'd sell a million more albums overnight."
"No, no, no," Jerry said, shaking his head furiously. "This isn't a joke. If we push this, they could come after us for real."
Dre stayed quiet, but I could see the hesitation on his face. He wasn't convinced. I leaned toward him, speaking low but firm. "Look, man. This is history. Nobody's ever gone head-to-head with the FBI like this. If we leak this, the whole world will be talking about us. We'll be unstoppable."
Dre hesitated, his brow furrowed. "I don't know, Pac. This could backfire."
"It won't," I insisted. "Think about it: the people are already behind us. This'll only make them love us more. The media will eat it up."
Eazy chimed in, turning back to Jerry. "And think about the sales. We could be swimming in money."
Jerry's eyes lit up at the mention of sales, his cautious demeanor wavering. "You really think this could work?"
"Trust me," Eazy said with a grin. "This'll be the best publicity we've ever had."
(By the end of the day, the letter was in the hands of every major news outlet. It spread faster than wildfire, dominating the headlines. But we weren't about to sit back and let the media take control of the narrative. No, we had to take this moment and own it.
We leaned into the controversy, giving carefully planned statements to reporters and making every soundbite count. "They're trying to silence us," we told them, our voices steady and full of conviction. "The FBI sent a letter warning us to back off—or else."
The reporters, hungry for any juicy detail, ate it up. Their stories grew more dramatic by the hour.
"FBI Puts N.W.A in Their Crosshairs!"
"FBI Threatens N.W.A with Armed Raid Over Controversial Song!"
"The Most Wanted Group in America?"
It didn't take long for the rumors to start swirling. One station claimed that the FBI had dispatched agents to intimidate us. Another alleged that our phones were being wiretapped. There was even talk of undercover agents lurking in our neighborhoods, watching our every move.
But what really caught everyone's attention wasn't the drama itself—it was the song.
People were curious. In fact, they were dying to know: What kind of track could possibly provoke a response from the most powerful law enforcement agency in the country?
For many, the FBI's involvement wasn't a deterrent; it was an invitation. Listeners, fans, and even casual observers wanted to hear the song that had drawn such heavy scrutiny. The intrigue was magnetic.
Radio stations were flooded with calls. "Play the song," they demanded. "We need to hear what this is all about!" Record stores couldn't keep up with the sudden demand for our album. Copies flew off the shelves as people raced to grab their own piece of the controversy.
In the streets, conversations shifted. It wasn't about whether people agreed with the song's message or not. It was about the sheer audacity of it all. "What could they have said that scared the FBI?" people asked one another.
For those who hadn't heard the song yet, the mystery only added to its appeal. It wasn't just a track anymore—it was a forbidden piece of art, something that the government itself had tried to suppress. And there's nothing more enticing than something labeled as "off-limits."
On talk shows, hosts debated the implications. "Is this censorship?" one host asked. "Or is the FBI simply doing its job by addressing a potentially incendiary song?"
Another countered, "Regardless of where you stand, you have to admit—it's making people talk. This group has everyone's attention right now."
Even people who didn't typically listen to rap were tuning in. They wanted to understand what all the fuss was about. The controversy transcended music—it became a cultural moment.
Behind the scenes, we watched it all unfold, knowing we'd struck gold. The curiosity was working in our favor, driving attention to the very thing the FBI wanted people to avoid. And with every new headline, every fresh rumor, the legend of "F**k the Police" grew larger.
By the time the week was over, the track wasn't just a song anymore—it was a statement. An anthem. A cultural lightning rod that had sparked a nationwide conversation about authority, censorship, and the power of music.
And the best part? We didn't have to fight to defend it. The intrigue did all the work for us.
Fans rallied behind us in droves. They flooded radio stations with requests for "Fk the Police." Protesters held signs reading, "Hands Off N.W.A" and "Fk Censorship!"
Album sales exploded. By the end of the week, we had sold over a million copies.
The only person who wasn't happy? The poor guy who wrote the letter. Sitting in his office, he stared at the television, shaking his head as yet another exaggerated report aired. "All I did was politely ask them to remove the song," he muttered. "How did it turn into this?"
---
Victory for N.W.A
For us, it was a triumph. We had taken a potential setback and turned it into a cultural phenomenon. The song wasn't just a track anymore; it was a symbol of resistance, of speaking truth to power.
Dre finally admitted, "Alright, Pac, you were right. This was genius."
Eazy raised a glass, his grin wide. "To the FBI—for giving us the best marketing campaign we could've asked for."
Jerry sighed but couldn't hide his smile. "You guys are gonna give me a heart attack. But damn, those sales numbers…"
As for me, I just leaned back and watched the chaos unfold with a smirk. We had done more than release an album—we had started a revolution.