The tour was coming together faster than we could have ever imagined. From the moment we announced it, the whole country seemed to erupt with excitement. Our music was already blazing through the streets, but now it was time to bring that energy live to the stage. We'd secured venues across the U.S., but none were as iconic to us as the Reseda Country Club in California.
This venue had history. From the late '70s to the '80s, it had been a dance hall, then a nightclub, and eventually, a live music hotspot where legends were born. Acts like Metallica and the Red Hot Chili Peppers had played here when they were on the come-up. Now it was our turn. It had the perfect vibe for a group like N.W.A—intimate but electrifying, with space for around 1,500 to 2,000 fans to pack in and feel every beat in their chests.
As the day of the show approached, Los Angeles was on fire with anticipation. You couldn't walk anywhere without hearing the same question: "Are you going to the concert?" It was like a code that united everyone from 18 to 30-year-olds. From hip-hop heads to casual listeners, everyone was talking about N.W.A. Tickets were selling out faster than anything the city had ever seen, and scalpers were already making a killing.
Even the folks who didn't listen to hip-hop were getting swept up in the hype. It wasn't just music—it was an event, a movement. People wanted to say, "I was there when N.W.A took over Reseda." And the energy wasn't just in L.A. Every city we were scheduled to hit on the tour had the same fever pitch of excitement.
Tupac pov
Now, you might laugh at this, but I wasn't just soaking up the fame. I saw an opportunity. With tickets selling out in minutes, I knew there was money to be made. So I went straight to the promotion company.
"Yo, I need a hundred tickets," I said, confident as ever.
The promoter looked at me like I was joking. "You serious?"
"Hell yeah. Hand them over, and I'll show you why."
He shrugged, handed me the stack, and that was it—I was officially in the resale business. I called up my brother Nathaniel and my homie J-Rock to help me out. We turned it into a full-blown operation, selling tickets at double, sometimes triple the original price.
Nathaniel worked the streets of Reseda, posting up in hotspots to find buyers, while J-Rock handled the phones, arranging meetups. People didn't even care about the price—they just wanted in.
"Yo, you want these tickets or what?" Nathaniel would ask, holding up a pair of tickets.
"How much?" someone would reply, their eyes darting around to make sure they weren't being scammed.
"Don't worry about it—just know you're about to witness history," Nathaniel said with a grin, pocketing the cash.
Watching the tickets move so fast was exhilarating. It wasn't just about the money—it was the rush of being part of something that everyone wanted.
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Fan pov
In the middle of the frenzy was Marcus, a 20-year-old who didn't even like hip-hop all that much. He was here because of his friends—Tyler and Josh—who wouldn't stop talking about N.W.A.
"Dude, you don't understand," Tyler said as they walked up to the Reseda Country Club. "These guys are about to change the game. They're not just rappers—they're legends in the making."
Josh chimed in, "And Tupac, man. That guy's a star. You'll see tonight. His energy on stage is unreal."
Marcus rolled his eyes but smiled. "Yeah, yeah. I'm just here because you begged me to come. This better be worth the fifty bucks I shelled out."
As they got closer to the venue, the energy was palpable. The line stretched around the block, and people were already chanting lyrics. In one corner, scalpers were still hustling tickets for outrageous prices.
"Yo, I got two tickets left!" a guy shouted, holding them up. "Best offer!"
Marcus smirked. "Crazy how people are dropping hundreds just to get in."
"Because they know this is history, bro," Tyler replied, grinning ear to ear.
When they finally stepped inside, Marcus couldn't help but be impressed. The room was packed, the air buzzing with excitement. The stage lights were dimmed, but you could feel the energy building. Even Marcus, the reluctant attendee, felt it.
"Okay," he admitted, leaning toward Josh. "This might actually be dope."
Josh laughed. "Told you, man. Get ready to have your mind blown."
6:00 PM, Sunday, 1988
The night was electric, and the crowd's energy was contagious. The Reseda Country Club was packed wall-to-wall with fans, the air thick with anticipation. This wasn't just another concert; it was a moment. And like any great show, we needed to kick it off right. That's where D.O.C. came in.
We had been talking with eazy-e about the setlist for weeks. The issue was simple: we didn't have enough songs to fill the whole night. Sure, we had hits, but not enough to carry a full concert without repeating tracks. Jerry, being the businessman he was, saw the solution.
"If we bring D.O.C. in to open, it's a win-win," eazy-e said during one of our planning sessions. "He gets exposure before his album drops, and you guys don't have to repeat tracks. Trust me, it's a solid move."
At first, there was some pushback. We didn't want the crowd to feel like we were stalling before the main event, but D.O.C. was part of the family, and his talent was undeniable. In the end, we agreed—it was the smart play. Plus, it gave us a chance to hype up his upcoming album, No One Can Do It Better.
The lights dimmed, and the crowd erupted. The bassline of "It's Funky Enough" dropped, and D.O.C. stepped onto the stage. His presence was magnetic, and the energy in the room shifted instantly. The beat thumped through the speakers, and the crowd's hands shot up as they swayed to the rhythm.
(One, and here comes the two to the three and four
Then I drop the beat I have in store
Lay dynamics on the top like a rug
Make it sound smooth and later make a dub
An MC ate well, so that you can tell
I am not illiterate, no not even a little bit
Nothing like an idiot, get it?
You want the record, cool, I'm with it
Let the rhythm take you, shake it cause it makes you
As I turn the knob of the door you escape through
Go in like a knot, don't be a puff
And I let it play cause Dre's getting funky enough)
D.O.C. delivered each verse with precision, his voice commanding the crowd's attention. This wasn't just an opening act; this was a statement. He owned the stage, his confidence radiating as he moved from one end to the other, hyping the crowd with every line.
"You ready for a night you'll never forget?" D.O.C. shouted between verses, the mic in his hand amplifying his words across the room.
The crowd roared in response, their energy feeding off his performance. Fans who had never heard of him before were instantly hooked, and those who knew the track were rapping along word-for-word.
Backstage, we watched the whole thing unfold on a small monitor. Eazy-e stood beside me, nodding in approval.
"See? I told you this would work," eazy-e said, his tone smug but satisfied.
I smirked, leaning back against the wall. "Alright, Jerry, you were right. Dude's killing it out there."
Yella chimed in, "Man, I knew D.O.C. had it, but this? He's setting the bar high for us."
Ren laughed. "We better not mess this up after this performance."
Dre, sitting in the corner with his headphones on, simply nodded. "It's all about the vibe. He's setting it right for us."
As D.O.C. continued his set, the energy in the venue only grew. The crowd wasn't just watching—they were part of the performance. People were dancing, jumping, and shouting along. The song ended with a thunderous cheer that echoed through the club.
"Make some noise if you're ready for N.W.A.!" D.O.C. shouted, and the crowd erupted again, even louder than before.
D.O.C. stepped off the stage, sweat glistening on his face, a satisfied grin spread across his lips. "They're all yours now," he said as he passed me backstage.
I gave him a fist bump. "You killed it out there, man. They're hyped now."
D.O.C. laughed. "Just wait till you see what they do when y'all get up there."
As we made our final preparations to hit the stage, I could still hear the crowd chanting, their excitement reaching a fever pitch. This was what it was all about—raw energy, unfiltered passion, and the kind of night people would talk about for years.
The stage was set, the crowd was ready, and the night was just getting started.