The Lemons Part 22






*Patti Labelle, Solange Knowles and Taraji P. Henson walk through an alleyway after narrowly escaping the book store with their lives*


Patti: Woo! That got my adrenaline pumping! Feel like the Bourne Identity or some-

Solo: We almost died!

Taraji: Elon Musk gave that car to me for my birthday.

Patti: I’ll get you a new one. It’s the least I could do after getting y’all into this.

Taraji: The very least.

Patti: Don’t get snappy, now

Solo: How did he even survive? Does this mean Aretha is alive?

Patti: I know! Let’s go back and ask him.

Solo: See, this is the type of shit Beyoncé supposed to be getting into. Guns and intrigue are not my wave. I have a bald and bearded husband. I should be getting my feet rubbed and listening to Dwele right now.

Patti: I said you could leave like fihty lem times. Where is your sister anyway?

*Meanwhile, at Drake’s posh mansion, Beyoncé and Blue Ivy stand across from Drake and a portion of his OVO family*


Drake: If I had known you were coming, I would have made preparations. Made some food. Crushed some grapes.

Bey: Unnecessary. I merely came to speak with you.

Drake: On what matters? Music?

Drake: Would you like a song written by PartyNextDoor? I already have enough for the year.

Beyoncé: No.

Beyoncé: Not today.

Beyoncé: I have much more important matters at hand.


*The Weeknd suddenly walks into the room through the same door that Beyoncé and Blue came in through*


The Weeknd: Well, I’ll be. If you were looking for a collaboration, you could’ve called me directly, Queen Bey.

Bey: Hello, Abel.

Drake: Goodbye, Abel.

The Weeknd: Pardon, Aubrey. He’s upset that he tried to run off with my sauce and now he has to rely on lesser sauce since I took mine back.

Bey: Hahahahaha

Drake: Hahahahahaha

Random dark-skinned OVO guys: Hahahahaha

The Weeknd: You know I only jest, Drake. Only about the running with my wave part. You didn’t get that far before I caught up.

Drake: Okay, bye, Abel.

Beyoncé: Would you mind briefly entertaining Blue for me, Abel? I must speak with Drake about private matters.

Abel: Of course. Did you want to see my doll collection?

Blue: You have dolls? But you’re a boy.

Weeknd: Some boys do play with dolls, but men’s dolls play with them.


*Weeknd leaves the room as Blue Ivy skips behind him*


Drake: . . . I wouldn’t let him watch my kids.

Bey: Come with me


*Beyoncé walks away from Drake and his compatriots towards a patio. Drake hurriedly follows behind, eager to know why Beyoncé graced him with her presence.*


*Beyoncé photogenically sits down at a glass table with the OVO owl in the middle of it*


Drake: Allswell, can you bring us some wine? Anything made before 1991.

Allswell: Of course, sir.


*Drake sits across from her cautiously, unsure if he even has permission to sit*


Bey: So, I saw that you brought Eminem out in Detroit. A very clever move.

Drake: Thank you, Beyoncé. I just wanted to show everyone that my pull is bigger than anyone else out there.

Drake: I play it, but it’s not a game, you know? In rap, you have to be 5 steps ahead of everybody.


*Allswell places two wine flutes of Tenuta San Guido red wine in front of them*


Bey: Of course.

Drake: I mean, no offense to your husband, but I’m at the top of the food chain right now. I was actually going to see about having a big Roc-a-Fella reunion at my next New York Show. Amil, Memphis Bleek, Beanie Siegel, Freeway, Young Gunz, Teairra Mari, Peedi Peedi, Christión, DJ Clue and Hell Rell have agreed to it.

Bey: Hell Rell?

Drake: He was in the Diplomats. As far as popularity, he was between JR Writer and Un Kasa.

Bey: The one that looks like an angry slave foot?

Drake: I. . . believe so?

Bey: Indeed. You won’t be having Jay at your Roc-a-fella reunion.

Drake: Why? Is he upset with me? Is it the “I turned into Jay” line?

Bey: No, he’s not upset with you.

Bey: Not yet, at least.



*Beyoncé leans forward towards Drake*


Beyoncé: We’re going to have an affair.


*Back at the Carter Mansion, Jay Z finally comes to on a weird ass Jeff Koons couch. Kylie sits across from him, snapchatting herself holding one of Jay’s grammies. Kanye and Kendall speak in hushed tones right behind Kylie.*


Kanye: That was completely unnecessary, though. It’s art. You don’t have to explain art.

Kendall: Well, yeah, but Taylor wanted to sue. Maybe Kim just wanted to squash it before it got that far.

Kanye: She could’ve talked to me about it first. That’s not dope. It’s not fly, it’s not wavy, none of that.

Kendall: Gotta hear both sides

Kanye: Whatever. What if something went wrong? What if the paparazzi saw or something?

Kylie: You think Kim meeting with Taylor Swift would be more embarrassing than that time you walked into a stop sign?

Kanye: What? Nobody talks about that anymore.

Kylie: Its actually the video that comes on my phone when you call me.

Jay: Yooooooo

Kanye: Oh, shit. Jay, you good? Don’t move, bro.

Jay: Did Bey come back?

Kendall: No.

Jay: Great.


*The quartet of celebrities suddenly hear some thumping in the basement*


Jay: What are they doing down there?

Kanye: Who?

Jay: The Beyhive girls. That’s them, right?

Kanye: The tall crazy one and the one with locs? Nah, they left with Ryan Reynolds.



*Jay gets up from the couch and begins walking towards the basement door. Kanye follows behind him closely.*


*Jay slowly stretches his hand towards the doorknob when the door suddenly opens*


BeckyGray: What are you doing here?

Jay: Me? This is my house. What are YOU doing here?

BeckyGray: Taking care of official Beyhive business. I only answer to Beyoncé.

Jay: Look, y’all about to be banned from my house, aight?

Jay: All of that “We don’t listen to you because you’re a man” shit is getting on my nerves.

BeckyGray: Its not because you’re a man. It’s because you’re less than a man. An adulterous swine is more like it.


Kanye: There isn’t even any proof Jay cheated. It’s all heresay.

BeckyGray: Are you calling my queen a liar?

Kanye: She didn’t even say his name

BeckyGray: Don’t be a dolt. Who else gave her a ring to regret putting on?

Jay: This is dumb. I’m going in my basement.

BeckyGray: The hell if you are!


*BeckyGray takes out a tazer and attempts to taze Jay under his armpit, but he jumps backwards in time*


Jay: Wow, really!?

BeckyGray: Mind your business and I will holler at you later.


*BeckyGray slowly closes the door, analyzing everyone as it shuts*


Jay: Now what?

Leo: I’ll tell you what. Your wife fucking lied to me.

Kanye: Leo? How di-

Leo: Hey, Kanye. Haven’t seen you since the coke pa–

Kanye: AHEM Ixnay on the okecay artypay alktay

Leo: Earway illstay usingyay igpay atinlay?

Kylie: What language is this?

Kanye: Ustjay around. . .ay imKay’s isters’ay

Kylie: Is this German?

Jay: What do you mean my wife lied to you?

Leo: The French shit where they said I tried to fuck Caitlyn Jenner

Jay: Which you didn’t do

Leo: Yeah, sure, but they didn’t stop saying it. Now some French shitblog is talking about leaking my dick pics.

Jay: Maybe if you didn’t send them to people–

Leo: Do you hear yourself? “Don’t send dick pics”. What’s next?

Leo:. Don’t call black women “Nutella Foxes”? Don’t piss in the shower unless it’s already turned on?


Leo: You’re so out of touch sometimes, Sean. I worry for you.



*Meanwhile at the OVO mansion*


*Drake spits out his red wine directly onto Beyoncé, but yet not one droplet stains her body or outfit. It looked as if the wine had turned into oxygen once it realized who she was.*


Drake: I’m so sorry

Bey: Its fine

Drake: I apologize

Bey: Its fine

Drake: How is the wine?

Bey: Its fine

Bey: I want the world to assume we’re fucking.


*Drake chokes on his wine again*


Bey: What is the problem?

Drake: Well, I mean, you’re beautiful. Top 5–

Bey: Top 5?

Drake: Number 1

Bey: Do I intimidate you, Aubrey?


*Drake looks around to make sure no men are nearby*


Drake: Yes. I wouldn’t have admitted it if you didn’t ask.

Bey: That wasn’t sexy at all.

Drake: I’m s–

Bey: We’re not really going to have sex.

Drake: Oh, thank god.

Drake: In a good way. Like, I mea–

Bey: You’re going to post a picture of me on your instagram.

Drake: Okay, cool, cool.

Bey: Then, later on, we’ll be seen in public together.

Bey: If you just post a picture of me, people will think we’re collaborating. If they see us alone in public together, they’ll think there’s something more.

Drake: I see.

Bey: Then, you will do one of your little features and say something along the lines of “I got the hottest chick in the game wearing my chain”.

Drake: Oh, gosh, that’s, like, a direct subliminal


*Drake picks up a 1000 thread count cotton napkin from the table and wipes his brow*


Bey: Are you afraid of Jay?

Drake: Jay Z? No. His influence? Yes.

Bey: He will be fine. I’ll take care of it.

Drake: How?

Bey: You have reached your threshold for for questions.


Bey: Instagram?

Drake: Yes, of course.


*Drake gets up and begins trying to find a good angle to take Beyoncé’s picture. He ends up in a Spider-Man like crouching stance and snaps a pic*


Bey: Another one

Drake: Okay


*Drake gets up and leans back on the table to take another picture*


Bey: Another

Drake: lol but you didn’t see this one

Bey: I need at least 40 pictures to choose from.

Drake: Oh

Bey: At least.


*Drake continues to look for angles as Beyoncé poses effortly on the patio*


*We now find Patti, Solo and Taraji exiting the alley and trying to blend in with the crowd*


Taraji: If I don’t make it home, so help me God.

Patti: Y’all some party poopers. I never told y’all about how we escaped from the Ku Klux Klan when I was touring in Mississippi. Y’all talk about being scared now.

Patti: They chased me and my team for 3 days before one finally caught up and said they wanted me to perform at the Grand Dragon’s wedding.

Solo: What?

Patti: Yeah, they paid good money, too. I came in, got to the mic, farted and left. Then they chased us back out of Mississippi.

Taraji: Wow, bitch.

Patti: Yeah, we gotta sit down some time. I need to relax and loosen up afte–


*gunshots suddenly ring out and everybody gets down*


*Patti peeks over the car to see a familiar Hummer in farthest driving lane. Juventud hangs out the window with his handgun as people scream and flee in utmost terror.*


Patti: Is that him again?

*Patti pulls a pistol out of her purse*.

Solo: Could you not?

Patti: I can’t shoot famous people, I can’t shoot unfamous people. Who the hell can I shoot?

Solo: Nobody.

Patti: That’s dumb…


*Patti cocks her gun and blindfires over the car*


*Juventud leans back in his seat and then comes back up to–*


*A fucking baby blue and pink pearlescent Range Rover slams into Juventud’s hummer from the back, whipping his neck and causing the car to push forward*


*the window rolls down, gracing Patti, Solo and Taraji with the face of Mariah Carey*


Mariah: What’s up, losers?

Mariah: Not you, Patti

Patti: Of course, baby




*Meanwhile at Azealia Banks apartment, Azealia knocks on Frank Ocean’s door. Frank opens it slightly.*


Frank: Yes, Azealia

Azealia: So I saw Endless.

Frank: Awesome.

Azealia: When are you dropping the audio version?

Frank: I don’t know.

Azealia: But the music is out.

Frank: That’s not the album.

Azealia: What? Why?

Frank: Why do you care so much?

Azealia: I don’t. I just want to understand why you’re a bisexual liar.

Frank: Didn’t we already have this discussion about how lying is subjective?

Azealia: No, bitch, no. I’m genuinely concerned for your fans.

Frank: You should be concerned about your fans.

Frank: You still have those, right?


*Frank closes the door*

Azealia: Fuck you, Frank.

*Frank opens the door a little bit*

Frank: Not while I’m in this body, Zealia.

*Frank closes the door and continues to be annoyingly mysterious*


2 thoughts on “The Lemons Part 22

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