Straight Outta Compton Page #22

114.

Nicole finally gets what Dre’s saying. Smiles.

NICOLE:

After a few months, you sure you’re

ready for that, Andre?

DRE:

Yeah. I’m really feelin’ you like

that.

NICOLE:

I’m feelin’ you too, but...

Nicole considers, conflicted. Dre can’t stand it any longer.

DRE:

Hey you know what, don’t worry

about it right now. Was just a

thought...

Dre drinks his glass of champagne down.

DRE (CONT’D)

Listen, I don’t mean to change the

temperature in here. But it had to

be crazy, bein’ married to a Laker.

NICOLE:

Wasn’t what I’d call a good fit. It

got crazy once we moved to L.A. I

definitely went through some

unnecessary sh*t when he started

acting like an a**hole. But I have

a beautiful son and all that other

nonsense is behind me now.

DRE:

Look, no offense, but I’m a little

glad he was an a**hole.

(raising his glass)

His loss is my gain. To a**holes.

NICOLE:

(playfully)

Chin-chin.

They share a laugh as Nicole raises her glass -- CLINK. Dre

downs his glass as we --

113 EXT. NICOLE’S APARTMENT - WESTWOOD - LATER 113

Dre walks Nicole to her door, and pretty soon they’re

kissing. It’s nice, but after a bit, she pulls away.

115.

NICOLE:

All right -- Good night.

Dre looks surprised.

DRE:

Really? Good night?

NICOLE:

Are you okay to drive?

DRE:

No.

They both laugh.

NICOLE:

Good night, Andre.

DRE:

See, I can’t help thinkin’, maybe

you want me to come inside...

NICOLE:

Of course I do.

DRE:

So what’s different now?

NICOLE:

I got a lot of things to think

about.

(beat)

You’re asking me to move in...

That’s a big step. I like you,

Andre. But there’s a lot going on

around you.

DRE:

What do you mean?

NICOLE:

I read the papers. I’m not stupid.

I know about the whole Death Row

business, the assault charges, the

shooting... Just seems dangerous.

My son’s my world.

DRE:

But I thought we been havin fun.

116.

NICOLE:

Fun is fun, Andre. But I refuse to

walk away from one crazy life into

another.

She kisses him on the cheek.

NICOLE (CONT’D)

I’ll a call you.

Nicole turns, walks into the building, leaving Dre standing

there, embarrassed, angered.

Head full of steam, he stumbles back, hops into his -

113A INT. DEATH ROW RECORDS - HALLWAY - NIGHT 113A

Dre walks into Death Row feeling the sting of Nicole’s words

still reverberating in his head as --

We reveal two pitbulls snarling and lunging at each other

being restrained by heavy duty chains. The screams and yells

of a betting crowd of Bloods permeate the hallway as we see

the Death Row signature electric chair squarely at the end. A

guy walking a pitbull on a hain moves pass the screaming

Bloods and howling dogs runs into Dre.

GUY WITH DOG:

Dre, you want to put some money on

this red nose?

DRE:

(A little dazed and

confused)

Nah man, I’m good.

The rowdy circle of betters grow more and more boisterous as

the pitbulls are about to get it on.

DRE (CONT’D)

Where's Pac at?

GUY WITH DOG:

Studio A...

113B INT. DEATH ROW RECORDS STUDIO A - CONTINUOUS 113B

We hear 2Pac's iconic verse from "Hail Mary" as Dre enters

the studio as the dog fight starts back in the hallway to

reveal --

The control room of Studio A is in complete chaos. Bottles

everywhere along with blunt smoke, Homies and Hoodrats. TUPAC

is in the recording booth spitting out lyrics.

117.

He's made an alter around him with lyric sheet stands -- each

stand has 2 to 3 notebooks full of raps on it. When they

notice Dre, the engineer stops the track.

Dre pushes the talk-back button and looks at Tupac through

the glass.

DRE:

Wha’up Pac?

TUPAC:

Oh sh*t! Wha’up Dre...

I’m about to hit niggas in the

mouth with this new album.

Suge said you got some heat for a

nigga.

DRE:

Nigga what? I do...guess who I

worked with last night.

TUPAC:

Who dat?

Dre hands a CD to the engineer ---

DRE:

Roger f***in’ Troutman. Man this

sh*t is fire. Wait til you hear it.

TUPAC:

Oh! OK what you thinking about

calling it?

DRE:

I’m thinking about calling it

California love.

Dre looks at the engineer ---

DRE (CONT’D)

Press play

California Love screams out the speakers... we hear the

iconic first few bars with Roger Troutman’s signature voice

singing, California Love.

We hear the sound of what seems like muffled gunshots coming

from another room. Pop. Pop. Pop. Everyone is like what the

f***.

This doesn't sit well with Dre. He exits to see what’s up.

118.

113C INT. DEATH ROW CONFERENCE ROOM - NIGHT 113C

We reveal a pitbull snarling at an emasculated poor bastard

that is on the floor all bloody, in his underwear holding a

glass of champagne. The pitbull continues to lunge at his

face looking to rip his soul out. WE REVEAL Suge smoking a

big cigar and laughing. He's at the center of a room full of

Bloods and hoodrats plus Blood #1, Goon Girl and Goon #1, all

intently watching the last moments of this emasculated

homeboys toast.

Dre opens the door at the far end of the room not expecting

to see this spectacle. There's several blown holes in the

wall where the gun shots were fired just above the cowering

man’s head.

DRE:

What the f*** y’all doin?

SUGE:

(drunk with power)

Yo Dre, you just in time. Watch

this. Get up!

(To the Poor Bastard)

You know what to do.

Bruised and bloody with one eye closed shut, the Poor Bastard

raises the glass with a shaky hand and a quivering voice. Pit

bull continues to stand at attention.

POOR BASTARD:

I'd like to make a toast...

Everyone in the room holds up their champagne glasses. Dre

can't believe his eyes. There's even two (plain clothes) off

duty COPS there with badges and gun holsters -- glasses

raised high.

POOR BASTARD (CONT’D)

...to Death Row Records...

ROOM:

To Death Row...

GOON GIRL:

(clowning him)

May the west coast reign forever.

POOR BASTARD:

(scared)

May the west coast reign forever.

BLOOD#1

What else!?

119.

POOR BASTARD:

I'd like to make a toast to Suge.

For making this all happen.

SUGE:

Don't forget to toast Dr. Dre. you

little b*tch ass mothafucka!

The Poor Bastard looks over at Dre.

DRE:

(frustrated)

Hold the f*** up! Put cha' glasses

down. Put your f***in clothes on.

What the f*** is going on around

here?! Seriously, what's going on?!

Suge approaches Dre puts his hand on his shoulder.

DRE (CONT’D)

(to Suge)

Nah Nah...

(to Room)

What the f*** is this sh*t. Is this

why we got money? To act like we

ain't got no god damn sense?! We

could of did all this kind of dumb

sh*t back in Compton!

(to the room)

This what you muthafuckas turned

into!? Seriously!

SUGE:

Its okay, Dre.

The Cop #2 is on the couch with some street girls holding a

champagne glass in her hand looks at Dre then over to Suge,

who's laughing.

DRE:

This sh*t is stupid! Do ya'll know

what it took for us to get here. Do

y’all know what you doin’? Y’all

f***in' it up! Y’all f***ing it up!

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