"And every time I close my lids I can still see the borough, I can still see the Bridge"
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Nas sat on the soft navy blue couch, his pen in his right hand his head being supported by his left hand. Looking down at the paper he tried to feel the beat that No I.D. played back for him a third time. He looked over his shoulder, not seeing the usual excited look on his face. "You don't like this one?" He asked him stopping the music. Nas looked into his eyes sitting back, "I don't know." He had been on his own for a week now, he had isolated himself in his loft in Tribeca pushing himself to find inspiration.
Margo had been on him to produce something but he wasn't in a creative mood. Jungle knew when he disappeared he was trying to get his mind together or create an album. He wouldn't come out of hiding until he was ready so he sat patiently waiting for him to materialize. He kept himself busy picking up his slack with the sneaker store in Brooklyn. Ernest played another beat for him, getting the same response, they had been in the studio approaching 2 hours now, and so far nothing had been done. As far as he was concerned he was wasting money right now. Working with Nas would sometimes frustrate him, he was a perfectionist.
If he wasn't liking the beat right way he would bypass it. Then circle back to see if he could write something then, he would decide if he liked it or not. Ernest had been working with Nas for a couple years now, he understood the way he worked. He tapped the pen onto the paper the beat slowly growing on him. Ernest looked at him, his head slowly starting to bop in sync with the rhythm that came out the speakers. The beat restarted itself over, the horns starting in the beginning reminiscent of a scene from an old Goldwyn Pictures film. He put the pen to the paper, writing down some words.
He got through the first verse, the beat started over again; he went back to top of the verse his lips moving fast no audible sound leaving them. He roughly exhaled scribbling out the words he wrote. Placing his head back against the couch he closed his eyes, frustrated with the block he was experiencing. Ernest stopped the song and looked over at him, "Do you want me to replay that last one?" Nas shook his head, sitting back he placed his hands onto his face letting out a loud growl. "Don't force it, it'll come to you." He advised him turning the beat back on forwarding to the next track.
His eyes closed and instead of ideas he was met with, darkness. Opening his eyes again he placed the unlit joint into his jean jacket pocket sliding the grey NY hat onto his head. Ernest turned around hearing his white Nike sneakers cross the wooden floor. Nas extended his hand shaking his hand and patting his back, "We'll come back later." Ernest looked at him confused, "Where you going?" Nas looked back at him smirking, "To find some inspiration." A smile took over his face as he turned away from the soundboard to pack up his things and go home. Nas hopped into his black Rolls Royce, driving around for a bit it was 3:00 AM so most New Yorkers were either coming home or in their bed waiting for their alarms to wake them.
