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We're Through

Written by: 0-T on March 7th, 2004



[ Jay-Z and Beyonce are having lunch in a fancy Manhattan restaurant. Beyonce is wearing a giant hat and shades to conceal her identity. Jay-Z's arm is in a sling from a near-fatal shoulder injury he suffered 3 days earlier. ]

Shawn Carter: How can you do this to me now?!? I'm in so much pain already. *puts his hand on his wounded shoulder*

Beyonce: Don't play the sympathy card, you're gonna be fine. It was your own fault it happened anyway.

Shawn: But why? Why break up with me when things were going so well?

Beyonce: I was attracted to you cause of your swagger. You know, how you rapped, dressed, talked... and now... well, you don't rap anymore. And you dress like my dad.

Shawn: B, I'm the same person.

Beyonce: Yeah, but... rap kept you young. Now you're just an old man.

Shawn: Young!

Beyonce: No.

Shawn: Yep!

Beyonce: Stop doing that.

Shawn: Hov!

Beyonce: People are staring at us.

Shawn: Like you don't live for that shit.

Beyonce: .......

Shawn: Okay, I'm sorry. But give a nigga a chance. I'm a man with pride, you don't do shit like that.

Beyonce: I'm sorry, Jay. I love you. Goodbye. *kisses Jay-Z's forehead and walks out of the restaurant, never to see him again*

Shawn: *mourns the loss of his first love for a brief moment* ......wait, she didn't even pick up the check. This bitch dumped me and left me with the tab. That's just rude. *already over Beyonce, Jay calls up a model to spend the evening with*

3 days earlier...

[The Roc is gathered for the release party of Young Gunz' debut album, Tough Luv. Various members of the press and Roc-A-Fella staff are present.]

Dame: Album's bout to hit the streets. Y'all excited?

Young Chris: Yessssss

Dame: Where's Neef?

(( Cut-away to Neef Buck, back in Philly selling drugs again ))

Beyonce: I'm so proud of you guys.

Young Chris: Yessssss

Dame: B, where's Jay? Y'all didn't show up together?

Beyonce: Nah, he wanted to come alone. He said he had a surprise for everyone.

Dame: A surprise? Bleek went platinum?

*Beyonce and Chris laugh*

Bleek: Dawg, I can hear you.

Beyonce: Where is Bleek anyway?

Bleek: I'm standin right fuckin here!

Twista: *walks up and nods*

Dame: Heeeey, speakin of platinum, this man is on his way.

Twista: Asithejiggamlistamaripadadiggadydiggadyalamadoshis

Dame: Yeah man, I couldn't believe it myself.

Twista: Reallyamasigajiggadigafillimasid

Dame: I dunno, I'm thinkin around six or seven hundred thousand.

Twista: Ruggadelowfuckemallsmiggateyallrawlsstippenasickenaall

Dame: ....I.... have no idea what you just said.

*the music is lowered and the crowd simmers down*

Jay-Z: *walks in the room with a brown, wool sports coat with patches over the elbows, and some young ass Strangler jeans that Chuck Norris wouldn't be caught dead in* Allow me to reintroduce myself, my name is Shawn!

*the crowd is dead silent. Dame's cigar drops from his gaping mouth, Kanye stands in disbelief as he no longer has the ugliest jacket in the room, and Cam'ron rubs his hands together*

Beyonce: *gasps... everything in the room disappears except for Jay. In a split second, she sees her future play out in front of her. At age 30, Jay-Z will be 54. She chases their child around the house while Jay's beer gut and arthritis make it impossible for him to keep up. At 45, her husband, the one-time 'King of New York,' is now in diapers and needs help just to make it to the couch, where he'll most likely spend most of his day. She's having an affair with a model, 20 years her junior, but can never reach orgasm without pretending she's someone else. As Jay approaches her, the binds in his skin-tight jeans snap her out of her nightmare.*

Jay: Hey baby. What's up? *kisses Beyonce on the cheek*

Beyonce: *speechless*

Dame: *walks up to Jay, snatches him by the arm and pulls him aside* Jay, what the fuck man? What the FUCK?

Jay: You seem up-tight homie. I need to bring you to my next pilates session.

Dame: *tries to whisper but his anger makes it obvious to everyone what he's saying* Fuck pilates! Jay, what the fuck are you doing?

Jay: I don't wear Jerseys, I'm 30 plus. Give me a crisp pair of jeans nigga--

Dame: Jay, those jeans ain't crisp. They're burnt. Where the fuck did you find a 28 waist to fit your tall ass?

Jay: You got jokes.

Dame: No, YOU got jokes. *rubs his fingers on Jay's wool coat*

Jay: You don't like? This is my new look.

Dame: Jay, may I remind you that we run a clothing company. We still run a label. Your image reflects on all of us. You're... you're like a mascot for our success.

Jay: I know, and I feel like this is the future. This is my future. I'm a grown up forreal.

Bleek: *walks up* yo Jay, nice look. *chuckles*

Jay: Oh, it's funny? *snatches off Bleek's hat, exposing his Wu-Dan moon-shaped hairline*

*everyone in the room laughs*

Jay: See, that's funny.

Dame: You play too much Jay.

Jay: Now slap yourself.

Bleek: Wha?

Jay: ......

Bleek: You said you'd never make me do that in public again.

Jay: ......

Bleek: Fuck that man. I ain't obeyin your every word no more. FUCK YOU JAY!

*crowd goes dead silent again*

Bleek: *looks around* What?

Dame: *snaps his fingers and points at Bleek*

*3 security guards 'manifest' and carry Bleek off into the back, kicking and screaming*

*on the other side of the room, Cam'Ron plots to take over the Roc*

Cam: *shaking his head* Yo doggy, this nigga done lost it.

Jim Jones: *nods*

Cam: This nigga so used to everybody ridin his dick... he actually think niggas will follow anything he does, no matter how gay it looks.

(( camera pans to the left, showing 4 niggas behind Cam, all dressed in pink ))

Jim Jones: I think it's about time for the Dip Set Byrd Gang movement to come in full effect.

Cam: I feel you doggy.

*Cam and Jim Jones do an elaborate gang hand shake that ends in an open-mouth kiss*

(( across the room, several women scream as some commotion is heard near the entrance ))

* M.O.P. shoots 2 members of security and busts into the room *

Lil Fame: FIIIIYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

Fizzy Wo: Ayo, everybody listen up! WE'RE THROUGH!

Lil Fame: We been on the Roc two years and all these niggas droppin before us.

Fizzy Wo: We can't eat off a 15 thousand dollar advance and some Roc chains, so this is what's going down...

Fizzy Wo and Lil Fame: AAAAAAANTE UP!

Lil Fame: *pulls out giant bag* Put your mother fuckin jewels in the bag!

Fizzy Wo: We know every last mother fucker in this room got on some jewelry. If you waste our time hidin shit in your pockets, we gonna blast on sight.

Lil Fame: *snatching chains and watches* If you ain't got a offerin for the collection plate, you better borrow some by the time we get to you.

Fizzy Wo and Lil Fame: AAAAAAANTE UP!

*M.O.P., frustrated with their album being shelved, robs the entire Roc-A-Fella staff. An older, more enlightened Shawn Carter decided to come to the party without any jewelry, and Lil Fame shot him in the shoulder. *



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