Chapter 108: Gucci Gang
Sunday, March 6, 2016 (8:00 AM)
Michael woke up with his phone vibrating out of control on the nightstand. Before opening his eyes, he already knew something had changed. The frequency of the vibrations was different—more intense, more constant.
He grabbed the phone and checked the notifications.
Complex had published a preview of the interview at 7 AM. A fifteen-second clip that already had more than two million views.
It was the exact moment where he said:
"When you copy, you don't copy the second best. You make sure to copy the best. And right now... I'm the best."
The clip was everywhere. Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, YouTube. People were sharing it, commenting on it, turning it into memes. Some called him arrogant. Others called him a king. Everyone was watching it.
Michael sat up in bed, a smile forming on his lips as he scrolled through the reactions.
"He's arrogant but he's right lmao"
"This kid is 16 and has more confidence than all of us combined"
"He went too far but he didn't lie"
"WHO DOES HE THINK HE IS??? ...okay but his songs are actually good"
Karl entered the room without knocking, tablet in hand and an expression of controlled panic.
"Did you see the clip?" he asked.
"I'm watching it now."
"Two million views in one hour, Michael. Two million. The full interview hasn't even come out yet."
Michael set the phone on the bed and looked at Karl calmly.
"Perfect," he said. "Then it's the ideal moment."
"The ideal moment for what?"
Michael got out of bed and walked to the window. Chicago's skyline glittered under the morning sun.
"It's been too much sadness, Karl. The Kansas City live, the tears on stage, the song about loneliness. All of that was real. All of that was necessary. But people need to see that I'm not just the depressed kid."
He turned toward Karl with a smile the manager hadn't seen in days.
"It's time to go a little crazy."
---
(9:30 AM)
Michael was sitting in front of his laptop in the hotel suite, with Karl and T-Roc watching over his shoulder. On the screen, the "Gucci Gang" video waited to be published.
"Let me understand this," Karl said, massaging his temples. "The internet is exploding with a clip where you declare yourself the best artist of the moment. People are debating whether you're a genius or an egomaniac. And your response is to drop a song about Gucci, cocaine, and a tiger?"
"Exactly."
"Michael..."
"Think about it," Michael interrupted, spinning his chair to face Karl. "Right now, everyone is talking about me. I have the attention of millions of people. What do I do with that attention? Waste it waiting for it to dissipate? Or use it to drop something nobody expects?"
T-Roc nodded slowly. "The element of surprise. They think you're going to respond to the clip with something serious, and instead you throw a tiger in their face."
"Exactly," Michael confirmed. "The contrast is the point. Three days ago I was crying talking about my parents. Yesterday I said I'm the best. And today... Gucci Gang."
Karl dropped onto the couch, processing the strategy.
"What time?" he finally asked, resigned.
"3 PM, Eastern time. Maximum audience across the country."
"The video is ready, right? Cole finished it last week."
"Ready and uploaded. I just have to press publish."
Karl looked at the clock. Five and a half hours to go.
"Okay," he said, getting up from the couch. "I'm going to coordinate with the platforms. Make sure Spotify and Apple Music have everything ready for the simultaneous launch."
"And I'm going to prepare the social media posts," T-Roc added. "Anything specific you want to say?"
Michael thought about it for a moment.
"Just one thing: 'Enough sadness. Time to lose our minds.' And the link."
T-Roc smiled. "Simple. I like it."
"Simple is effective," Michael replied. "Now get out. I need to mentally prepare for what's coming."
---
(3:00 PM)
At exactly 3:00 PM, Michael pressed the publish button.
The video appeared simultaneously on YouTube, Apple Music, Spotify, and all the streaming platforms. The Instagram post went out a second later: an image of the Bengal tiger with the text "GUCCI GANG. OUT NOW." and the link in bio.
Michael leaned back in his chair and watched the numbers start to climb.
10,000 plays in the first minute. 50,000 in the first five. 200,000 in the first fifteen.
Twitter exploded. The people who had been debating the "I'm the best" clip now had something completely new to process.
"WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS"
"From crying about his parents to GUCCI GANG GUCCI GANG GUCCI GANG"
"This kid has multiple personality disorder and I love it"
"IS THAT A REAL TIGER????"
---
(5:30 PM)
Marcus "M-Reacts" Williams was one of the most popular music reaction streamers on YouTube, with almost two million subscribers who tuned in every time an important artist dropped something new. This afternoon, he had more than forty thousand live viewers waiting for his verdict on "Gucci Gang."
"Okay, okay, okay," Marcus said, adjusting his headphones while the video loaded on his screen. "I already saw the interview clip where this kid says he's the best. Controversial. Very controversial. But now I want to see if he can back up those words with something different."
He pressed play.
The first seconds of the video showed Michael from behind, facing a graffiti-covered Lamborghini Aventador. The beat came in with bass so distorted that Marcus's headphones vibrated.
"Oh shit," Marcus muttered. "That bass is DIRTY."
'Gucci Gang, Gucci Gang, Gucci Gang, Gucci Gang'
'Gucci Gang, Gucci Gang, Gucci Gang'
'Spend three racks on a new chain'
'My bitch love do cocaine, ooh'
Marcus leaned back in his chair, eyes wide.
"Wait, wait, wait. Is this the same kid who was crying three days ago talking about his dead parents? WHAT?"
'I fuck a bitch, I forgot her name'
'I can't buy a bitch no wedding ring'
'Rather go and buy Balmains'
'Gucci Gang, Gucci Gang, Gucci Gang'
The stream chat exploded with comments. "BRUH", "THIS SLAPS", "THE ENERGY SWITCH", "W".
Marcus started nodding to the rhythm, a smile forming on his face.
"This is... this makes no sense and THAT'S WHAT MAKES IT GREAT," he exclaimed. "There's no deep message. There's no metaphor. It's pure nonsense flex. Gucci Gang, Gucci Gang, Gucci Gang! That's it! And it's incredible!"
'My lean cost more than your rent, ooh'
'Your momma still live in a tent, yeah'
'Still slanging dope in the 'jects, huh'
'Me and my grandma take meds, ooh'
Marcus paused the video. "'Me and my grandma take meds'? WHAT? Bro, what kind of bar is that? It makes no sense. BUT IT HITS."
He resumed the video.
'None of this shit be new to me'
'Fucking my teacher, call it tutory'
'Bought some red bottoms, cost hella Gs'
'Fuck your airline, fuck your company'
'Bitch, your breath smell like some cigarettes'
'I'd rather fuck a bitch from the projects'
'They kicked me out the plane off a percocet'
'Now Michael fly a private jet'
"THERE IT IS!" Marcus shouted. "He put himself in the song! 'Now Michael fly a private jet'. This kid has no limits!"
'Everybody screaming: Fuck WestJet!'
'Michael still sell that meth'
'Hunnid on my wrist, sippin on Tech'
'Fuck a lil bitch, make her pussy wet'
The video cut to a new scene. Marcus froze.
"WAIT. STOP. HOLD UP."
He paused the video again, his face inches from the screen.
"IS THAT A REAL TIGER?"
The chat exploded: "YOOOOOO", "BRO WTF", "THAT TIGER IS REAL", "MICHAEL IS INSANE".
On screen, Michael was sitting on a golden throne, with a two-hundred-kilogram Bengal tiger lying at his feet. It wasn't CGI. It wasn't a special effect. It was a real tiger, breathing, blinking, looking directly at the camera.
"BRO," Marcus shouted, standing up from his chair. "THIS KID IS SIXTEEN YEARS OLD AND HE'S SITTING NEXT TO A BENGAL TIGER! HOW? HOW IS THIS LEGAL?"
The video continued toward the final chorus, but Marcus could barely focus. He kept rewinding to the tiger scene, showing it from different angles.
'Gucci Gang, Gucci Gang, Gucci Gang, Gucci Gang'
'Gucci Gang, Gucci Gang, Gucci Gang'
'Spend three racks on a new chain'
'My bitch love do cocaine, ooh'
'I fuck a bitch, I forgot her name, yeah'
'I can't buy a bitch no wedding ring, no'
'Rather go and buy Balmains'
'Gucci Gang, Gucci Gang, Gucci Gang'
The video ended with Michael riding the Lamborghini into the sunset, the tiger visible in the rearview mirror.
Marcus took off his headphones and looked directly at the camera, his expression a mix of shock and admiration.
"Okay. I need to process what I just saw." He paused. "This kid just made the craziest transition in music history. Three days ago he was crying about his dead parents. Yesterday he said he's the best artist of the moment. And today he drops a song about Gucci that has no deep meaning, with a VIDEO that has a REAL TIGER."
He shook his head.
"I don't know if Michael Demiurge is a genius or a lunatic. But what I do know is that I can't stop watching him. And that, my friends, is exactly what he wants."
He looked at the numbers on his screen.
"The video has been online for two and a half hours and it already has five million views. Five. Million. In two and a half hours."
He smiled.
"This kid isn't playing. He said he was the best, and he's doing everything possible to prove it."
---
Monday, March 7, 2016 (3:00 PM)
Exactly twenty-four hours after its release, "Gucci Gang" had broken all of Michael's records.
The Prevost was rolling toward Detroit for the next show of the tour when Karl entered Michael's suite with the tablet in hand and an expression of total disbelief.
"Give me the numbers," Michael said without looking up from his laptop, where he was working on the final adjustments to "Falling Down."
Karl sat across from him and started reading, his voice trembling slightly.
"YouTube: thirteen million four hundred thousand views in twenty-four hours."
Michael looked up. "Thirteen million?"
"Thirteen million," Karl confirmed. "It's your most-viewed video on the first day. It beat 'Lucid Dreams' by almost five million."
"Spotify?"
"'Gucci Gang' debuted at number two globally. It's projected to reach number one by tomorrow night. It's displacing Drake."
"And the interview clip?"
Karl smiled. "Forty-one million combined views across all platforms. 'When you copy, you copy the best' is the meme of the moment. People are using it for everything. Sports, politics, relationships. It's inescapable."
Michael closed the laptop and leaned back in his seat.
"The combination of both?"
"That's what's most impressive," Karl said, shaking his head. "People are connecting the dots. They see the clip where you say you're the best, and then they see the tiger video, and they say: 'He's right. This guy is different.' You're not just the sad kid. You're not just the arrogant kid. You're everything."
Michael looked out the bus window. The plains of the Midwest flew by, a blur of brown and gray under a cloudy sky.
"The contrast," he said quietly. "Vulnerable one day, invincible the next. I keep them guessing. They never know which version of me they're going to get."
"Some critics say you have no defined identity," Karl commented. "That you're a chameleon without substance."
"Critics can say whatever they want," Michael replied, turning toward Karl with a smile. "As long as they keep talking about me, I'm winning."
"And what's next?"
Michael opened the laptop again, where the "Falling Down" project glowed on the screen.
"Detroit tomorrow. Then more shows. And in between..." he pointed at the screen. "More music. Always more music."
Karl got up to leave, but stopped at the door.
"By the way, Complex published the full interview this morning. It already has three million views. The comments are split between people who love you and people who hate you."
"Perfect," Michael responded without looking away from the screen. "That means nobody's ignoring me."
Karl shook his head with a mix of admiration and exhaustion.
"One of these days, Michael, the world won't be able to keep up with you."
"That's the plan," Michael replied. "That was always the plan."
The door closed. The bus kept rolling east.
And somewhere on the internet, thirteen million people were still listening to a sixteen-year-old kid rap about Gucci and tigers, not knowing that same kid was already working on the next song that would blow their minds.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
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