Retirement Fund

"Autotune?? What would my old fans think?! Plus - I still got that ace!" Young MC looks distressed.

"Autotune, or crunk - whatever", his manager replies: "But stop making oldschool tracks about getting detention and passing notes in classrooms. You're how 'young' by now?! People think you're a has-been, or a pedo--- hell, I'm not sure what's worse anymore! And you keep talking about some ace in the hole. No whiff of that!"

Young sighs, emptying out his box of Razzles on the table.

A rough knock on the door. Without response, Suge bursts in and moves toward Young, knocking several carefully placed action figures off the table. Young gets up, wide-eyed, his mouth open. Suge points his Glock at him: "However the hell a motherfucker like you got 'em in the first place - and I give fuck about that story - hand me the tapes! Now."

Suddenly, Young is gloating: "The tapes? So you fell for it!?"

- "Ya wanna be all sassy with a gun to your head, huh? Clever girl."

- "Not easy to see with, like, dollar signs in your eyes--- huh?"

- "Tell me what's goin' on or this thing is goin' off!"

Young sighs: "Ok, let's make it short - Ninja Turtles are on. You think I got those tapes with unreleased Pac rhymes? I ain't got those..." Slowly, Young assembles back his action figures: "But I got ones that sound like Pac. Like, a lot. Like, you kinda... fell for it?"

Suge's arm sinks, putting away his Glock. He gives Young a little jab: "Ok, fooled me. That's between us. But now I'm foolin' people. You get fifteen percent. This is our retirement fund."

Young smirks at his manager: "Told you! Had an ace!"