Chapter One: Bars Before Breakfast
CJ stood in front of the cracked mirror in his bedroom, shirtless, headphones on, mouthing lyrics he hadn't even written yet. His right hand clutched a pencil like a mic, and he bobbed his head to a beat only he could hear. It was early — too early for anyone sane to be awake on a Saturday — but CJ wasn't trying to be sane. He was trying to be legendary.
The walls of his room were plastered with posters: Kendrick Lamar, J. Cole, Nas — all staring down at him like judges in a rap court. But CJ wasn't scared. Not anymore.
He licked his lips, took a deep breath, and spit out a line.
"I don't sleep, I scheme, I dream in sixteen bars,
Writing rhymes while my city dreams behind jail bars..."
He froze.
"Yo... that's kinda fire," he muttered, scribbling the line into his notebook. His handwriting was a mess, but the words burned like gasoline.
Downstairs, his mom was yelling something about breakfast, but he didn't answer. Not because he was ignoring her — but because he was on. And when CJ was in the zone, the world had to wait.
Later that afternoon, the crew met at the park — cracked pavement, bent basketball rims, and the faint smell of weed from someone's older cousin nearby. It wasn't perfect, but it was their spot.
Charles was already there, beatboxing into his phone mic with a look of pure concentration. Charles had rhythm in his bones. He could turn a soda can and a pencil into a full-on studio session.
Lulu rolled up on her skateboard, headphones blasting. She was the wildcard — unpredictable, loud, and the only one brave enough to call CJ out when his rhymes fell flat. "You still rhyming 'fire' with 'desire'? Bro, it's 2025."
Tico showed up next, draped in an oversized hoodie, always quiet, always listening. If Lulu was the firecracker, Tico was the fuse — silent but explosive when he opened his mouth. People slept on him. Big mistake.
And then came James — tall, fast-talking, and already live on IG. "Yo, yo, we out here! Future legends in the building!" he shouted to the nonexistent audience on his phone. "CJ, drop something for the people, bro!"
CJ smirked, stepped forward, and looked around. The sun was high, and the city buzzed in the distance. He didn't care about the world right now. Just the beat in his head — and the fire in his chest.
"I'm not chasing clout, I'm chasing crowns,
Spit truth till my words shut the whole block down.
Mama praying I make it with this pad and pen,
I told her, 'I'm not just rapping — I'm breathing through this pen.'"
The crew nodded in unison. Even Lulu gave a slow clap. Charles whistled. "Yo... that was cold."
CJ smiled, but only a little. He wasn't trying to impress them — not really. This was just step one. Because every king starts as a kid with a dream.
And CJ? He wasn't dreaming anymore.
He was coming for the throne.