It was time to make music and my inspiration was at an all time high. As soon I stepped food into the studio, Mac sat me down with his game face on.

His hat is low on his head and he wears sweats and a perfectly snug sweater. The time was getting cold but my name was spreading in these streets.

I spent the last few days thinking about my image as Mac had been telling me to do. When we sit down to talk, we go straight to the topic.

"Your image has to be completely marketable and consistent at least for a few months to a year. When people hear the word Chanel, a certain image or outfit should pop into their brain along with admiration and a thirst to be or be with you. So what were you thinking?" He ass, his hand stroking his chin.

"I was thinking about the video that gave me the exposure. In that video I was rapping, it was fun and easy and it got the response we wanted." I answer.

"So you were thinking, why not recreate that?" Mac follows and I nod.

"That's very marketable and it sells. Fly girl from Brownsville talking her shit. I would love to be introduced as a female rapper first and if I released a song that was easy to turn up to, it would get play immediately with very little work done." I watch his brain work, smiling at my idea.

"You have the attitude for it, honestly." Mac looks at me impressed.

I stick my tongue at him and missed Flex in an instant.

"It gives me time to train my voice before I actually put out a singing record and when I do start singing, it would catch everyone off guard. They won't expect me to be as good as I am. It can be like a contradicting soft side that every hood girl has but tries not to show." I was sitting up straight now, my mind working in unison with Macs.

"So then my image could be fly girl from Brownsville, a bit of a bad ass but sweet when I'm ready kind of thing. Ripped jeans and jordans, crop tops, supreme..." I trail off and Mac continues the list.

"Tims, curly hair, long eyelashes, perfect eyebrows." He nods in agreement and picks up his phone to schedule an appointment with one of his own designers.

The designer on the phone was one well known by the hood, specifically for his come up out of SoHo. He was not much older than I am and was first known for his fashion from his fashion blog on Tumblr that helped him gain his audience and caused him to rise to fame. His name was D'tello.

I knew all of this because Trisha was literally OBSESSED with him. D'tello opened a few stores since his rise to fame but his clothes online were a lot more popular than the stores and simple shirts would go for over one hundred dollars.

Trisha bought them with Pookie's money when she could.

After Mac gets off the phone, he looks at me excited.

"You ever met D'tello?" He asked.

I shook my head. "Nope, but I know who he his and I love his designs."

"Me too, the kid is dope as shit. I'll have you meet him one of these days. He is down to dress you so you have to meet him at some point anyway." Mac says.

He gets up and begins setting up the mic and mic stand in the booth.

"So is he going to show us some clothes and we take our pic? How does this work?" I ask watching Mac and his set up.

"Baby girl, no." He looks at me with a smug smile on his face.

"D'tello is going to create an outfit for you, out of thin air." He finishes.

"Wow." I chuckle. "That's great."

I knew Mac had connections, D'tello must feel so honored to even have a producer as big as Mac hit him up. When you make it out the hood, you really make it out. I wanted to ask how much D'tello was worth now but I wondered if it was my place.

I get in the booth and put on my headphones.

Mac clicks himself into my ears.

"Can you hear me?" He questions.

I give him a thumbs up and he a beat begins to hum to life in my ear. It momentarily stops so he can talk.

"Freestyle like you did before, I want to see if anything can naturally just flow out of you again." The static voice says.

The beat comes back to life at normal volume and I settle down and bop my head to it. It's medium tempo and sounds very much like something trap. I rap briefly then Mac cuts it off and puts on something else.

I catch the rhythm of his beat and my brain begins working with me to find words like poetry to fit into its time scheme and flow.

Every time I caught a healthy flow, Mac would switch to another beat and watch me create an effortless freestyle with that record as well. He was having fun because his face was completely lit up when I bodied it.

"You on a roll, baby. Keep spittin."

He put on another one of his beats and I am so completely in the zone, laughing and rocking side to side as my attitude came out on the mic.

"Ahhhhh! I wasn't ready." Mac clicks into my headphones and then as I look through the clear glass into the studio he has thrown his headphones off and began krumping in the studio. Full on dancing and screaming.

"Holy shit!" I could hear muffled as I pull my headphones off.

He clicks in again. "Give me a minute." He says.

I watch as he leans over the control board trying to catch his breath.

"That shit was fire." He says out of breath.

I laugh and flip my hair to the side.

"Let's get it."I say into the mic ready to spit again.

We wrap up the song and when Mac plays it back and adds all the effects and stutters, it sounds hotter than any song on the radio at this point.

"This is it. The turn up song of 2012." Mac says looks at me pleased.

I put my hand out for a handshake and he pulls me into a hug.

It only takes him a few minutes to mix and master the track and he names is ".

He releases it in just a few hours and I post it on my Twitter, Instagram and Mac posts it on his Youtube account.

The first video had up to 3 million views now, I couldn't think of how many this would have. As soon as we release it, we play it over and over again, listening and dancing the newest dances on the streets, just clowning around. Just enjoying the music.