2pac: greatest rapper Alive

Fallout

N.W.A's Reaction

Location: Ruthless Records Office, Los Angeles

Time: The morning after No Vaseline dropped

The office was tense. Nobody had spoken for the last five minutes. The only sound was the faint hum of the air conditioning.

Eazy-E sat at the head of the table, arms crossed, tapping his fingers against the polished wood. His expression was blank, but his jaw was clenched.

Dr. Dre leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. He hadn't said a word since the track ended.

DJ Yella and MC Ren sat next to each other, shifting uncomfortably.

Then Jerry Heller finally spoke.

"This…" He exhaled sharply, rubbing his forehead. "This is bad."

Eazy-E scoffed. "No shit."

Jerry sat forward, placing his hands on the table. "We can't ignore this. Every radio station, every magazine, every kid on the street is talking about it."

Dr. Dre finally looked up. "Yeah, 'cause he killed us on that track." His voice was flat.

Eazy's eyes flicked toward him. "So what? We let this slide?"

DJ Yella sighed. "I don't know what kinda response you expect, man. That was—" He shook his head. "That was brutal."

MC Ren nodded. "He aired out everything."

Jerry Heller leaned forward. "You don't respond. You don't give this more attention than it already has."

Eazy-E's lip curled. "So we just let him clown us?"

"You don't have a choice." Jerry's voice was sharp. "Listen to me—if you diss your writer, you lose." He pointed at the cassette player. "That track? That's what happens when you go against the guy who wrote half your lyrics."

Silence.

Eazy-E looked away, exhaling slowly. He wouldn't admit it, but he knew Jerry was right.

Dr. Dre stood up. "I'm done talking about this. I got music to make." He walked toward the door, then paused. "And if y'all smart, you'll stop thinking about a response."

He left.

Eazy rubbed his face, frustration boiling in his chest. "I ain't lettin' this go."

Jerry leaned back. "You don't have to. But trust me… the damage is already done."

---

The Aftermath

The Streets

In the neighborhoods of L.A., No Vaseline was the only thing blasting out of car speakers and boomboxes. People debated the lines, repeated their favorite parts, and laughed at how ruthless Tupac had been.

Barbershops, record stores, house parties—everywhere you went, the conversation was the same.

"You hear what Pac said about Jerry?"

"He ain't hold back on nobody."

"Man, I ain't never seen a diss track like this."

People who never cared about rap beef were suddenly interested. It wasn't just a song—it was a moment.

---

The Industry Impact

At Universal Music Group, executives were watching the numbers roll in.

Carl Johnson stood by his office window, sipping coffee, listening to the reports.

"No Vaseline is the top-selling single right now," his assistant told him. "It's outselling pop records. International markets are picking it up too. The UK, Germany, even Japan—they're all tuning into this beef."

Carl nodded. "That's the power of controversy."

His assistant smirked. "You should've seen the Rolling Stone headline this morning. 'Tupac Drops the Hardest Diss Track Ever.'"

Carl chuckled. "They're not wrong."

---

The Charts

Within a week, No Vaseline was everywhere.

#1 on the Billboard Hot Rap Songs chart

Top 10 on the Billboard Hot 100

The Sales Numbers

By the end of the first week, the numbers were staggering.

No Vaseline sold 650,000 copies in its first week.

It was the fastest-selling rap single of the year.

It hit platinum status in just over a month.

It wasn't just a street hit. It was a mainstream success.

Magazine covers featured Tupac's face. Late-night talk shows mentioned the track. Even people outside of hip-hop were talking about it.

For the first time, rap beef had truly gone international.

---

Eazy-E's Private Conversation with Jerry Heller

Location: Eazy-E's House, Calabasas

Eazy-E sat on his couch, flipping through a magazine. Tupac's face was on the cover.

Jerry Heller sat across from him, sipping a glass of water.

Eazy-E exhaled sharply. "So what now?"

Jerry set his glass down. "Now? You move forward."

Eazy glanced at him. "And what about Pac?"

Jerry shrugged. "He just proved a point."

Eazy's fingers drummed against the armrest. "Which is?"

Jerry leaned forward slightly. "That when you turn on the guy who wrote for you, you lose."

Eazy's jaw tensed. He said nothing.

Jerry stood up, adjusting his suit. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got damage control to handle."

Eazy didn't respond. He just kept staring at the magazine cover.

---

Location: A Recording Studio in L.A.

Tupac sat in the booth, headphones on, watching the engineer adjust the levels.

The door opened. One of his homies stepped in, grinning. "Yo, Pac. You seen the new charts?"

Tupac smirked. "Lemme guess."

His homie tossed a magazine onto the table.

No Vaseline #1

Tupac picked it up, flipping through the pages.

He chuckled. "Told y'all."

He set the magazine down, leaned back, and cracked his knuckles.

"Now, let's get back to work."

The Next Morning – Breaking News

It was a new day, but two things dominated every newspaper and TV broadcast.

The first? No Vaseline—the diss track that had the entire music industry on fire.

The second?

A headline that caught everyone off guard.

"Dr. Dre Arrested for Assaulting Woman at Nightclub."

The industry had another scandal on its hands.

And this time, it had nothing to do with rap beef.

To be continued…