After the chaos of our earlier interviews, you'd think people would shy away from putting us live on air again. But no—if anything, the controversy surrounding N.W.A only made us hotter. Despite the fear that came with interviewing a group like ours, plenty of outlets still wanted their piece of the action.
It was in this atmosphere that a well-known local news channel reached out for an exclusive interview with Dr. Dre. They wanted something candid and raw, something that captured the essence of who we were outside of the music studio. Dre agreed to the interview, and it was set to take place in a small open park right next to our studio.
The day of the interview, the park was quiet, a stark contrast to the bustling energy of the studio. Dre sat on a bench with the reporter, a middle-aged man wearing a suit that seemed too formal for the setting. A camera crew surrounded them, adjusting angles and microphones.
I had no intention of interrupting. I was just hanging around the studio, trying to kill time. But when I saw them setting up, a mischievous idea popped into my head.
Dre leaned back in the metal chair they'd provided, a relaxed smirk on his face. "No problem, man. Let's get into it."
The cameraman gave the signal, and the interview began.
"Your album Straight Outta Compton has redefined the music scene," the interviewer began, his voice steady. "It's raw, unapologetic, and it's been met with both critical acclaim and heavy criticism. Did you expect this level of reaction?"
Dre nodded, his expression thoughtful. "We knew we were doing something different, something real. But to have it blow up like this? Nah, man. We didn't expect the world to catch on so fast. We just wanted to tell our story."
"Speaking of your story," the interviewer continued, "many have called your music a mirror to society. Do you feel pressure to keep representing those realities in your work?"
Dre shrugged. "It's not about pressure. It's about honesty. This is who we are. These are our lives, our experiences. If that resonates with people, then we're doing something right."
The reporter smiled, loosening up a little. "Your track 'F**k tha Police' has been a lightning rod for controversy. How do you handle the backlash?"
Dre smirked. "Backlash? Man, that just means we're doing something right. People don't like hearing the truth, but the truth don't change just because it makes you uncomfortable."
While Dre was giving his smooth, calculated answers, I was back in the studio, watching the scene from the window. The quiet, serious tone of the interview didn't sit right with me—it was too formal for N.W.A. So, being the troublemaker I am, I grabbed one of the prop Uzis we used for photoshoots.
I crept out the side door and into the park, keeping low like I was in some kind of action movie. The cameraman noticed me first, his eyes widening, but he didn't say anything.
Then, as Dre launched into an answer about systemic issues and music's role in addressing them, I sprinted into the background. I held the Uzi above my head like a lunatic, running in circles and pretending to fire it in every direction.
The reporter froze mid-question, his jaw practically hitting the floor. "Uh… what's happening back there?"
Dre turned, and when he saw me, his calm demeanor evaporated. "Ayyy! Pac!" he yelled, standing up halfway. "Stop with that f**king joke!"
I stopped, grinning ear to ear, and pointed the Uzi at the sky like I was saluting. "Just adding some entertainment, Dre! Don't mind me!"
"Man, you're gonna scare these people half to death!" Dre said, rubbing his temples. "Get outta here before you get us both in trouble!"
The reporter, now visibly shaken but trying to laugh it off, said, "Is this… normal behavior?"
Dre sighed, clearly exasperated. "Unfortunately, yeah. This is Pac being Pac. Don't mind him."
I finally retreated back into the studio, leaving Dre to salvage the interview. He shook his head and muttered something under his breath before turning back to the reporter. "Sorry about that. Now, where were we?"
The reporter chuckled nervously, glancing at the park behind him as if expecting another surprise. "Right. Let's talk about the album's impact on younger audiences. Do you think your music influences them positively?"
Dre's tone became serious again. "I think it depends on how you listen to it. If you're just hearing the beats and the anger, you're missing the point. Our music is about awareness. It's about showing people what's really going on so they can think for themselves."
The interviewer nodded, visibly impressed. "And what's next for N.W.A? Where do you go from here?"
Dre leaned forward, a hint of a grin returning. "We keep going. Bigger, better, and louder. This is just the beginning."
By the time the interview aired, the incident with me and the Uzi had become the highlight. Clips of me running around like a maniac were shared everywhere, and the media lit up with reactions.
Some people called us reckless. Others thought it was hilarious. But as always, it kept N.W.A in the spotlight.
Dre wasn't too happy about it at first, but even he had to admit it added a certain charm to the interview. "You're lucky people think you're funny, Pac," he told me later.
"Funny?" I said with a smirk. "Nah, Dre. I'm unforgettable."
And that was the truth. Whether it was our music, our message, or our antics, N.W.A wasn't going to fade into the background anytime soon.
After the success of Straight Outta Compton, we knew we couldn't slow down. The spotlight was on us, and we had to keep the momentum going. That's when we shifted our focus to Eazy-E's solo project, Eazy-Duz-It. This album wasn't just about showcasing Eazy's unique style; it was a chance for all of us to solidify our roles in the music game.
The studio was buzzing with energy as we dove into the project. Dr. Dre and DJ Yella were locked in as producers, crafting beats that hit harder than anything we'd done before. Dre's perfectionism was on full display—every snare, every kick, every bassline had to be just right. Yella, with his sharp ear, was the perfect complement to Dre's vision. Together, they created a sound that was equal parts raw and polished, perfect for Eazy's high-pitched, unapologetic delivery.
Me and MC Ren? We were in the writer's room, crafting lyrics that fit Eazy's persona. Eazy wasn't a writer himself, but he had this charisma that made our words come alive when he delivered them. Writing for him was different than writing for ourselves. Eazy had a way of turning even the most straightforward lines into something unforgettable, so we had to make sure every verse matched his energy.
While we were deep into Eazy-Duz-It, our unofficial member, The D.O.C., was working on his own album. He wasn't about gangsta rap like the rest of us. His style was clean, lyrical, and focused more on technical skill than street life. Dre was producing his album too, juggling both projects like a pro.
I remember asking The D.O.C. once why he didn't dive into the gangsta rap scene. He just laughed and said, "Man, I'm trying to show people there's more to this than just the streets. Rap is an art, and I'm here to elevate it."
I respected that. He was carving out his own lane, and even though his approach was different, it was just as important as what we were doing with N.W.A.
With all the buzz around Straight Outta Compton and now Eazy-Duz-It, people started asking me when I was going to release my own album. "Pac," they'd say, "you've got the talent, the voice, the presence—why not step out on your own?"
The answer was simple: I didn't have the time. Between working on N.W.A.'s projects and Eazy's album, my schedule was packed. Writing lyrics, brainstorming concepts, recording tracks—it was a full-time job. And on top of that, I was still in high school.
Yeah, I was still hitting the books. It wasn't the same school I used to go to; I'd transferred after everything started popping off with N.W.A. I didn't go every day—I'd show up for the classes I needed to pass and focus on preparing for my final exams. Balancing school and the music industry wasn't easy, but I knew I had to do it.
High school was a trip. I wasn't your typical student anymore. Some of the kids treated me like a celebrity, while others didn't care about N.W.A. at all. The teachers? They were divided. Some supported what we were doing, saying it was important for the culture, while others looked at me like I was a walking controversy.
But despite all that, I stayed focused. I didn't want to be the guy who made it big and then let everything else fall apart. Finishing school was important—not just for me, but for my family.
Balancing school and studio life meant my days were long and my nights were even longer. After spending hours at the studio, I'd go home, crack open a textbook, and study until I couldn't keep my eyes open. Ren used to joke, "Man, Pac, you're gonna burn yourself out."
"Can't stop, won't stop," I'd reply with a grin.
The studio sessions for Eazy-Duz-It were some of the most fun we'd had. Eazy had this infectious energy that made everyone work harder and laugh louder. Even during the most intense moments, he'd crack a joke or do something wild to keep the vibe light.
One time, during a late-night session, Eazy walked into the booth wearing sunglasses and a fur coat, acting like he was some kind of rap James Bond. "Alright, y'all, let's make history," he said, striking a pose. We couldn't stop laughing, but when the beat dropped, he turned it on and delivered a verse so sharp it gave us chills.
What made Eazy-Duz-It special was that it was a team effort. Everyone brought their A-game, and you could feel the passion in every track. This wasn't just an album; it was a statement. It was us saying, "N.W.A isn't a one-hit wonder. We're here to stay."
The D.O.C. would pop into the studio every now and then, offering advice or just hanging out. His energy was different—calm, focused, almost meditative. He was like the older brother who kept us grounded, even when things got crazy.
As we wrapped up the album, I couldn't help but feel proud of what we'd accomplished. We were building something bigger than ourselves, something that would outlast the headlines and the controversies.
People kept asking when I'd release my own album, but I wasn't in a rush. I knew my time would come, but for now, my focus was on N.W.A., Eazy, and my education. There was a lot more work to be done, and I was ready for it.
The music wasn't just a job—it was our way of life. And as long as we had a story to tell, we weren't going anywhere.
Author
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