"Got motherfuckers here, got motherfuckers there," he rapped.
"They wants a piece of me so they playin' like they care.
I ain't no fuckin' Tom, won't be owned like no ho,
It only me in this game, corporate whitey go blow
I got your sell-out, I got your sell-out right here
I got your sell-out, bitch! I got it right fuckin' here!"
And with each "got your sell-out right here" or version thereof, Gordon would contemptuously grab his crotch and squeeze. And with every crotch squeeze aimed at corporate whities and Uncle Tom sell-outs, the crowd would cheer wildly, many of the male members (who made up perhaps three-quarters of the audience) squeezing their crotches in unison.
To the crowd (and the 1.3 million people who had bought the single so far), the lyrics were particularly poignant, as Bigg G had now done what any self-respecting rapper would do after riding out a first contract. Instead of signing for a second with National Records or one of the other corporate whitey owned labels, he had signed with an independent black-owned label, in this case C-Block Records, which was owned by the notorious veteran rapper Cedric Jackson, an Oakland native who went by the stage name No-Bail Piece Prize. No Bail had just released his own album back in May, simultaneous with Bigg G's Down With It. The two acts were about halfway through a North American tour, their stop in Los Angeles one of three shows in southern California. And even though Bigg G had sold five times as many copies of his album and more than six times as many singles, and even though most of the fans bought tickets to the show in order to see Bigg G (No-Bail was considered a bit of a has-been rapper — it was agreed that he'd hit his peak with his Can't Leave The Hood album of 1988), No Bail was the headliner and Bigg G the opening act.
Jake was at the show, not because he was a big fan of rap music — he wasn't, although since becoming friends with Gordon last year, he had come to appreciate some of the legends of the genre, including No-Bail and Gordon himself. No, the reason he was here was because of Gerald and Delilah, Elsa's grandkids. Gerald was now a junior in high school, Delilah a freshman at USC. Both had bragged so much to their friends about how they knew Bigg G (oh, and Jake Kingsley too, they always added as an explanation for how they knew Bigg G) that their friends naturally assumed that they would be able to score some free front row tickets for the show. And so, after assuring their friends that of course they could score, not only tickets, but back-stage passes as well, they had come to Jake and begged him to use whatever influence he had to keep them from looking like idiots.
Though Elsa had been in favor of letting the two of them face the consequences of their bragging, she had not protested too much when Jake asked her if she minded him seeing what he could do. Her only provision was that they not be allowed to go unaccompanied by an adult (she did not think of Delilah as an adult just yet). And so, after spending the better part of an hour trying to track down Gordon, who had been in Salt Lake City (of all places) on the day in question, he managed to secure seven tickets for the VIP section and seven back-stage passes. The kids were each able to invite their two closest friends and it was amazing how many close friends they suddenly developed when it became known they were in possession of the tickets and passes. They rode to the show in a limo chartered by Jake and they all met Gordon (but not No-Bail — he was nowhere to be found) backstage for twenty minutes before Gordon started his set.
And now, as Gordon rapped out his last lines about motherfuckers and corporate whiteys, as the band engaged in a furious finale of bass, drums, and record spinning, the crowd cheered wildly, calling for more. Alas, there was to be no more. No Bail would be hitting the stage in twenty minutes and the roadies had to start clearing Bigg G's equipment from it.
"Good night, y'all!" Gordon said into his microphone. "Be good to each other and get it on at least once a day!"
Another round of cheers erupted and Gordon dropped his microphone into its holder. He then picked up the three empty forty-ounce King Cobra cans he'd drained during the set for theatrical effect (Anheuser-Busch was a major sponsor of the tour — but Gordon had already confided to Jake that he hated malt liquor and the cans were actually filled with Gatorade) and threw them into the crowd. Minor riots erupted over their possession. Without bowing or any other acknowledgements, Gordon and his band left the stage. The house lights came up. From all around them, many of the concertgoers got up and started heading for the exits, having seen who they'd come to see.
Gerald and his two friends were talking animatedly about the show, all them using liberal amounts of profanity and slang that would've gotten their mouths washed out with soap had Elsa heard it. Though he didn't usually talk that way in front of Jake, Jake let it slide. He remembered what it was like to be sixteen and with his friends.
Delilah and her two friends were discussing the show as well, though with considerably less colorful language. They were also schooled enough in their manners to remember to thank their host for the evening.
"That was tight, Jake," Delilah told him. "Thanks for bringing us."
"Yes," said Lisa, the nineteen year old, cinnamon-skinned friend who had been making eyes at Jake ever since the limo. "I can't believe I got to meet Bigg G and Jake Kingsley. Is there anything I can do to show you how much I appreciate tonight?"
"Lisa, you're such a slut!" proclaimed Rhonda, a full-bodied white girl with tremendous breasts that were barely restrained by her spaghetti-strap top. "Don't you know how crude it is to mack on Jake right in front of D here?"
"I didn't see that stoppin' you from mackin' on Bigg G," Lisa shot right back. "I'm surprised you didn't drop down and start blowin' him right there while he was signin' that picture for you."
"That ain't the same thing," Rhonda proclaimed. "That was Bigg G! He's different. Jake is like a brother to D, ain't he, D?"
"Well," Delilah said, giving Jake a few eyes of her own, "maybe a second cousin."
"Okay," Jake said, standing up and checking to make sure his backstage pass was still hanging around his neck. "This conversation has suddenly taken a turn toward the disturbing. You guys still want to stay and see No Bail?"
"Yeah," said Lisa. "It should be cool. I used to listen to him when I was in junior high."
"Me too," Rhonda said. "I think I still remember some of his stuff."
"Okay then," Jake said. "Gordon invited me backstage after his set to have a couple of drinks with him. I'm gonna take him up on it. Are you guys okay out here alone for a bit?"
"Can't I go with you?" Lisa asked.
"Yeah, me too," Gerald said. "Bigg G is down with us, ain't he?"
"I don't think you guys really want to know what goes on backstage after a concert," Jake told them.
"The hell we don't!" Gerald proclaimed. "What's he got goin' back there? Is that when all the bitches come back?"
"Can't we have a couple drinks with him too?" asked Rhonda.
"No," Jake said firmly. "The invitation did not include my entourage. Now behave yourselves and I'll be back in a bit."
There was some more grumbling but it was mostly good-natured. All six of the teens figured that Jake was going backstage to score himself some of G's groupies. Gerald and his friends were envious of Jake. Delilah and her friends were envious of the groupies.
Jake approached one of the bodyguards. "Gordon asked me to come back after the set," he told him. "Is it cool?"