Excerpts from Chapter 9 of "Black American Psycho: A Novel" by Ernest Baker
Black American Psycho: A Novel: Ernest Baker: 9781535277471: Amazon.com: Books
The rest of the book has details about how Drake and him became friends, Ernest's coachella article, and everything else he was up to last year.
Ernest's book uses fictional names, events and places.
Ernest = Arthur
Drake = Rake
Meek Mill = Bleek Bill
etc
Quote
Arthur became close friends with Rake that summer.
Their friendship peaked when Rake beefed with Bleek Bill, a rapper who publicly accused Rake of using ghostwriters, and boyfriend of Rake’s ex, Vicki Menage.
Rake recorded a diss aimed at Bleek Bill and sent Arthur an early version of the song one night in late July.
“What do you think about that line, ‘I just bought like twenty pairs of Nike gloves’?” Rake asked, over text.
“It’s hard,” said Arthur. “It lets Bleek know that you’ll get into some street sh*t if he wants to take it there.”
“I don’t want that,” said Rake. “Up here, shooters buy Nike gloves when they’re about to pop off. That’s not the message that I’m trying to send.”
“You should say it,” said Arthur. “It’s a battle.”
“Nah, I got the perfect line. I’m going to change it to something about how this is for the people who think that I don’t write enough. Something like that.”
Rake worked on the song for the rest of the night. By the time he finished, it was 5:00 a.m.
“Should I drop it tomorrow night?” asked Rake.
“No. Drop the song right now,” said Arthur. “Tweet ‘Scary hours’ before you do it.”
“You know what’s the craziest part?”
“What’s that?”
“I live in the Four Seasons when I’m in Toronto,” said Rake. “Bleek and Vicki had a concert here last night. They’re in the room directly below me right now.”
Rake released the song shortly after 5:00 a.m. The song had the intended effect. Rake was instantly crowned the victor in the battle with Bleek Bill.
Internet users created thousands of memes that made fun of Bleek Bill for his loss. Rake spent the entire day sending Arthur screenshots of his favorite memes.
Arthur went to Toronto the following weekend.
Rake was hosting the annual Owl Festival in his hometown. The Book Club was throwing its first international party. The promoter paid for Arthur’s flight. Josie drove up with Ryan and Aaron later that night.
Arthur texted Rake on his first day in Toronto. “I’m in your city. What’s up?”
“I’m doing rehearsal at the venue,” Rake replied. “Come through.”
When Arthur arrived at the venue, Rake sat down and took a break. His Jordan sneakers dangled in mid-air off the front of the stage. Arthur stood on the floor.
“Dog, you want to know how the whole ghostwriter sh*t started?” said Rake.
“Of course,” said Arthur.
“Bleek approached the kid who wrote for me to write for him. The kid was like, ‘Nah, I’m down with Rake right now, so I’m sticking with him.’ Bleek felt disrespected and figured he would try to expose me.”
“How are you addressing the beef at the festival?”
“You know all the memes that we’ve been sending back and forth?”
“Yeah. Some of them are so ridiculous.”
“When I perform the diss, we’re putting all the best memes on the screen behind me,” Rake said, pointing to the Jumbotron that crewmembers were installing.
“That’s the nail in the coffin. I mean, you already k!lled dude, and the Internet has been wild all week, but having the festival right now is insane.”
“I don’t even feel good about it,” said Rake. “This sh*t is dark. I used to be friends with that man. But he’s the one who switched on me, so I had to end him.”
“He’s making a big deal about how you wore his chain that one time,” said Arthur.
“Bro, he came up to me at a basketball game and put the chain around my neck, talking about, ‘You’re family now.’ I was sitting there laughing like, ‘Do I give this sh*t back now or what?’ He’s a dumb a.ss n*gga.”
“How did you even get in a position to have people saying you have ghostwriters?”
“I had people around me when I was recording the mixtape. There would be people in different rooms working on songs. I tried to record the way Kanye does.”
“Honestly, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with recording like that.”
“That’s what I’m saying. And if this battle has to be the vessel through which we can have a conversation about this and, maybe, change things, then so be it. With that said, I’m never working with ghostwriters again.”
“Yeah, the pressure is on. You have to lock yourself in a room and write the next album by yourself.”
“Exactly. I have to. I’m not asking anybody for help, opinions, none of that. And I have to sell a million copies in the first week. That’s how I win the war.”
Josie, Ryan, and Aaron’s drive from New York to Toronto took longer than expected. They went straight to the Book Club’s party at Soho House when they got to the city.
Arthur was snorting cocaine off the trackpad on his laptop and so intoxicated that he had trouble standing in the DJ booth.
When Arthur woke up next to Josie in a room at the Radisson, he did not remember much from the party.
“Oh, you’re awake,” said Josie. “How nice of you to join the rest of us.”
“What happened last night?” said Arthur.
“That’s what I want to know.”
“The last thing I remember was when you, Ryan, and Aaron showed up while I was DJing. I drank a lot, I did a lot of coke, and I took a Xanax.”
“You looked horrible,” said Josie. “You couldn’t stand. It was scary. Don’t do anything like that ever again.”
“I won’t.”
“I mean it, Arthur. I love you to death, but I’ll break up with you on the spot the next time you get fu*ked up like that. It’s not safe. It’s not cute.”
Arthur’s megalomaniacal needs were met at Owl Festival.
When he waltzed through the venue with Josie at his side, a young white woman approached him, said that she was a big fan, and asked for a picture.
When he stood in line for drinks, a young white man approached him, said, “Arthur Simon? I love your writing,” and asked for a picture.
When he walked to his seat, a group of teenagers yelled his name from their chairs on the lawn and waved to get his attention.
Arthur checked Twitter and vainly searched his own name. Another dozen people had posted about seeing Arthur at the festival. Four said they were too nervous to say hi. Arthur felt his power growing. His heart swelled.
Leslie never reacted well to run-ins with Arthur’s fans. She hated Arthur’s hollow fame. She knew it was fleeting and trivial, and, secretly, Leslie wanted Arthur’s hollow fame for herself.
Josie knew Arthur’s fame was fleeting and trivial, but she was not threatened by it, nor did she want it for herself. She existed in a different world than Leslie.
Josie did not like when women approached Arthur in public, but, outside of that, she found his fame cute and fascinating. She loved Arthur. When she observed Arthur’s energetic interactions with his fans at the festival, she understood why they loved him too.
But, yes, the festival.
Rake performed and disparaging Bleek Bill memes were plastered on the Jumbotron behind him as promised.
The response to Rake’s stunt was divisive.
A large contingency of music writers thought that Rake’s use of memes to dismantle Bleek Bill was cheap, lazy, and avoided the topic of how he had not written much of the music on his previous album.
Arthur saw Rake at the after-party.
Arthur was at the bar, drinking with Josie, Ryan, and Aaron. Ryan and Aaron had sat in a different section at the festival because they bought scalped tickets at the entrance. They had all reunited at the after-party when Rake texted Arthur, asking him to meet near the exit of Soho House so that they could talk.
Josie and Ryan had already met Rake and did not care to meet him again. Aaron had never met Rake and did not care to meet him a first time.
Arthur left the bar and went to meet Rake near the exit on the first floor.
Rake was standing against the wall, drinking alone.
“You think that was the right approach?” Rake asked. “What are people saying?”
“The consensus is obviously that you won the battle,” said Arthur. “Some people are mad about the memes, but people are always mad.”
“I feel like the fans got it,” said Rake. “But the writers are going to have it out for me.”
“Don’t worry about it,” said Arthur. “I’m probably going to write something.”
Rake shook Arthur’s hand. “I appreciate you.”
Two black women appeared out of thin air and introduced themselves to Rake.
Arthur went back to the bar.
Two days later, Maggie Harvey published a piece for Backstage titled “I’m Breaking Up With Rake.”
Maggie’s piece capitalized on the growing backlash against Rake.
She echoed sentiments that Rake had been cheap and lazy in his use of memes in the battle with Bleek Bill. The piece also lashed out at Rake as s3xist for insinuating that Bleek was less of a man because his girlfriend, Vicki Menage, was more successful.
Everyone who was sick of Rake rallied behind Maggie’s piece and relished in her digs at his tactics. Her piece was propped up as important and necessary criticism.
Rake got wind of Maggie’s story.
“You see the Backstage piece?” Rake texted Arthur, who was back in Brooklyn by then.
“Yeah, I know that girl,” said Arthur. “It’s trash.”
“I stopped reading after she admitted to having a Skrillex haircut,” said Rake. “It’s annoying that people actually get behind bitter bullsh*t like this.”
“I’m writing a response right now,” said Arthur. “It’s going to address everything. I’ll handle it.”
The next day, Arthur published a piece for Record titled “The Rake Backlash Is Boring.”
Arthur’s piece capitalized on the backlash to the Rake backlash.
He called out the anti-Rake contingency for their selective outrage and hypocrisy in holding Rake to politically correct standards to which they did not hold other rappers.
Rake texted Arthur: “Fantastic piece. Thank you. This sets up the next album perfectly.”
“That was just my honest reaction to everyone hating you all of a sudden,” said Arthur. “I would have written the same story even if I didn’t know you.”
“I know,” said Rake. “That’s why I loved it.”
Most notable about Arthur’s piece was its thinly veiled personal attacks on Maggie. He used specific observations about Maggie’s affinity for other rappers who could also be classified as s3xist to make a point about the fickle nature of her feminist Rake critique.
Maggie texted Arthur to let him know that she was not upset by his piece and enjoyed the back-and-forth.
“It’s so funny how we are the only two writers who can make these kinds of waves,” she said.
“Yeah, it’s really fun,” said Arthur. “We dictate the conversation.”
“I’m on the roof of the Met, drinking wine, dying laughing because this Internet sh*t is too easy.”
“I’m about to go to a mansion in the Hamptons with Josie for the weekend. We won.”
“Meanwhile, everyone on Twitter is going to think we are, like, out to ruin each other. I love it.”
Secretly, Maggie was fuming. Arthur had stolen her moment and, the more she thought about it, the more she did want to ruin him, by any means necessary.
Maggie unfollowed Arthur on Twitter—a formal disavowal of acquaintance. She appeared in photos with Leslie soon thereafter.
Black American Psycho: A Novel: Ernest Baker: 9781535277471: Amazon.com: Books
The rest of the book has details about how Drake and him became friends, Ernest's coachella article, and everything else he was up to last year.
Ernest's book uses fictional names, events and places.
Ernest = Arthur
Drake = Rake
Meek Mill = Bleek Bill
etc
Quote
Arthur became close friends with Rake that summer.
Their friendship peaked when Rake beefed with Bleek Bill, a rapper who publicly accused Rake of using ghostwriters, and boyfriend of Rake’s ex, Vicki Menage.
Rake recorded a diss aimed at Bleek Bill and sent Arthur an early version of the song one night in late July.
“What do you think about that line, ‘I just bought like twenty pairs of Nike gloves’?” Rake asked, over text.
“It’s hard,” said Arthur. “It lets Bleek know that you’ll get into some street sh*t if he wants to take it there.”
“I don’t want that,” said Rake. “Up here, shooters buy Nike gloves when they’re about to pop off. That’s not the message that I’m trying to send.”
“You should say it,” said Arthur. “It’s a battle.”
“Nah, I got the perfect line. I’m going to change it to something about how this is for the people who think that I don’t write enough. Something like that.”
Rake worked on the song for the rest of the night. By the time he finished, it was 5:00 a.m.
“Should I drop it tomorrow night?” asked Rake.
“No. Drop the song right now,” said Arthur. “Tweet ‘Scary hours’ before you do it.”
“You know what’s the craziest part?”
“What’s that?”
“I live in the Four Seasons when I’m in Toronto,” said Rake. “Bleek and Vicki had a concert here last night. They’re in the room directly below me right now.”
Rake released the song shortly after 5:00 a.m. The song had the intended effect. Rake was instantly crowned the victor in the battle with Bleek Bill.
Internet users created thousands of memes that made fun of Bleek Bill for his loss. Rake spent the entire day sending Arthur screenshots of his favorite memes.
Arthur went to Toronto the following weekend.
Rake was hosting the annual Owl Festival in his hometown. The Book Club was throwing its first international party. The promoter paid for Arthur’s flight. Josie drove up with Ryan and Aaron later that night.
Arthur texted Rake on his first day in Toronto. “I’m in your city. What’s up?”
“I’m doing rehearsal at the venue,” Rake replied. “Come through.”
When Arthur arrived at the venue, Rake sat down and took a break. His Jordan sneakers dangled in mid-air off the front of the stage. Arthur stood on the floor.
“Dog, you want to know how the whole ghostwriter sh*t started?” said Rake.
“Of course,” said Arthur.
“Bleek approached the kid who wrote for me to write for him. The kid was like, ‘Nah, I’m down with Rake right now, so I’m sticking with him.’ Bleek felt disrespected and figured he would try to expose me.”
“How are you addressing the beef at the festival?”
“You know all the memes that we’ve been sending back and forth?”
“Yeah. Some of them are so ridiculous.”
“When I perform the diss, we’re putting all the best memes on the screen behind me,” Rake said, pointing to the Jumbotron that crewmembers were installing.
“That’s the nail in the coffin. I mean, you already k!lled dude, and the Internet has been wild all week, but having the festival right now is insane.”
“I don’t even feel good about it,” said Rake. “This sh*t is dark. I used to be friends with that man. But he’s the one who switched on me, so I had to end him.”
“He’s making a big deal about how you wore his chain that one time,” said Arthur.
“Bro, he came up to me at a basketball game and put the chain around my neck, talking about, ‘You’re family now.’ I was sitting there laughing like, ‘Do I give this sh*t back now or what?’ He’s a dumb a.ss n*gga.”
“How did you even get in a position to have people saying you have ghostwriters?”
“I had people around me when I was recording the mixtape. There would be people in different rooms working on songs. I tried to record the way Kanye does.”
“Honestly, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with recording like that.”
“That’s what I’m saying. And if this battle has to be the vessel through which we can have a conversation about this and, maybe, change things, then so be it. With that said, I’m never working with ghostwriters again.”
“Yeah, the pressure is on. You have to lock yourself in a room and write the next album by yourself.”
“Exactly. I have to. I’m not asking anybody for help, opinions, none of that. And I have to sell a million copies in the first week. That’s how I win the war.”
Josie, Ryan, and Aaron’s drive from New York to Toronto took longer than expected. They went straight to the Book Club’s party at Soho House when they got to the city.
Arthur was snorting cocaine off the trackpad on his laptop and so intoxicated that he had trouble standing in the DJ booth.
When Arthur woke up next to Josie in a room at the Radisson, he did not remember much from the party.
“Oh, you’re awake,” said Josie. “How nice of you to join the rest of us.”
“What happened last night?” said Arthur.
“That’s what I want to know.”
“The last thing I remember was when you, Ryan, and Aaron showed up while I was DJing. I drank a lot, I did a lot of coke, and I took a Xanax.”
“You looked horrible,” said Josie. “You couldn’t stand. It was scary. Don’t do anything like that ever again.”
“I won’t.”
“I mean it, Arthur. I love you to death, but I’ll break up with you on the spot the next time you get fu*ked up like that. It’s not safe. It’s not cute.”
Arthur’s megalomaniacal needs were met at Owl Festival.
When he waltzed through the venue with Josie at his side, a young white woman approached him, said that she was a big fan, and asked for a picture.
When he stood in line for drinks, a young white man approached him, said, “Arthur Simon? I love your writing,” and asked for a picture.
When he walked to his seat, a group of teenagers yelled his name from their chairs on the lawn and waved to get his attention.
Arthur checked Twitter and vainly searched his own name. Another dozen people had posted about seeing Arthur at the festival. Four said they were too nervous to say hi. Arthur felt his power growing. His heart swelled.
Leslie never reacted well to run-ins with Arthur’s fans. She hated Arthur’s hollow fame. She knew it was fleeting and trivial, and, secretly, Leslie wanted Arthur’s hollow fame for herself.
Josie knew Arthur’s fame was fleeting and trivial, but she was not threatened by it, nor did she want it for herself. She existed in a different world than Leslie.
Josie did not like when women approached Arthur in public, but, outside of that, she found his fame cute and fascinating. She loved Arthur. When she observed Arthur’s energetic interactions with his fans at the festival, she understood why they loved him too.
But, yes, the festival.
Rake performed and disparaging Bleek Bill memes were plastered on the Jumbotron behind him as promised.
The response to Rake’s stunt was divisive.
A large contingency of music writers thought that Rake’s use of memes to dismantle Bleek Bill was cheap, lazy, and avoided the topic of how he had not written much of the music on his previous album.
Arthur saw Rake at the after-party.
Arthur was at the bar, drinking with Josie, Ryan, and Aaron. Ryan and Aaron had sat in a different section at the festival because they bought scalped tickets at the entrance. They had all reunited at the after-party when Rake texted Arthur, asking him to meet near the exit of Soho House so that they could talk.
Josie and Ryan had already met Rake and did not care to meet him again. Aaron had never met Rake and did not care to meet him a first time.
Arthur left the bar and went to meet Rake near the exit on the first floor.
Rake was standing against the wall, drinking alone.
“You think that was the right approach?” Rake asked. “What are people saying?”
“The consensus is obviously that you won the battle,” said Arthur. “Some people are mad about the memes, but people are always mad.”
“I feel like the fans got it,” said Rake. “But the writers are going to have it out for me.”
“Don’t worry about it,” said Arthur. “I’m probably going to write something.”
Rake shook Arthur’s hand. “I appreciate you.”
Two black women appeared out of thin air and introduced themselves to Rake.
Arthur went back to the bar.
Two days later, Maggie Harvey published a piece for Backstage titled “I’m Breaking Up With Rake.”
Maggie’s piece capitalized on the growing backlash against Rake.
She echoed sentiments that Rake had been cheap and lazy in his use of memes in the battle with Bleek Bill. The piece also lashed out at Rake as s3xist for insinuating that Bleek was less of a man because his girlfriend, Vicki Menage, was more successful.
Everyone who was sick of Rake rallied behind Maggie’s piece and relished in her digs at his tactics. Her piece was propped up as important and necessary criticism.
Rake got wind of Maggie’s story.
“You see the Backstage piece?” Rake texted Arthur, who was back in Brooklyn by then.
“Yeah, I know that girl,” said Arthur. “It’s trash.”
“I stopped reading after she admitted to having a Skrillex haircut,” said Rake. “It’s annoying that people actually get behind bitter bullsh*t like this.”
“I’m writing a response right now,” said Arthur. “It’s going to address everything. I’ll handle it.”
The next day, Arthur published a piece for Record titled “The Rake Backlash Is Boring.”
Arthur’s piece capitalized on the backlash to the Rake backlash.
He called out the anti-Rake contingency for their selective outrage and hypocrisy in holding Rake to politically correct standards to which they did not hold other rappers.
Rake texted Arthur: “Fantastic piece. Thank you. This sets up the next album perfectly.”
“That was just my honest reaction to everyone hating you all of a sudden,” said Arthur. “I would have written the same story even if I didn’t know you.”
“I know,” said Rake. “That’s why I loved it.”
Most notable about Arthur’s piece was its thinly veiled personal attacks on Maggie. He used specific observations about Maggie’s affinity for other rappers who could also be classified as s3xist to make a point about the fickle nature of her feminist Rake critique.
Maggie texted Arthur to let him know that she was not upset by his piece and enjoyed the back-and-forth.
“It’s so funny how we are the only two writers who can make these kinds of waves,” she said.
“Yeah, it’s really fun,” said Arthur. “We dictate the conversation.”
“I’m on the roof of the Met, drinking wine, dying laughing because this Internet sh*t is too easy.”
“I’m about to go to a mansion in the Hamptons with Josie for the weekend. We won.”
“Meanwhile, everyone on Twitter is going to think we are, like, out to ruin each other. I love it.”
Secretly, Maggie was fuming. Arthur had stolen her moment and, the more she thought about it, the more she did want to ruin him, by any means necessary.
Maggie unfollowed Arthur on Twitter—a formal disavowal of acquaintance. She appeared in photos with Leslie soon thereafter.
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nikka YOU AINT KANYE. KANYE DIDN'T COME OUT THE GATES WITH A GHOSTWRITTER BLACKBERRY ON FUNK FLEX FREESTYLE
