To the Investors of Roc Nation, LLC:
It’s young H-O, rap’s Grateful Dead, the new Jean Michel, ya’ boy,
Congratulations are in order after another lucrative second quarter for our venerable licensed legal corporation. As you may already know from the NBA finals, CNN, the cover of Billboard, or your sleek Samsung Galaxy, our latest product, my 12th co-branded, multi-media integration platform, Magna Carta Holy Grail is available now.
This is the culmination of what we’ve sought since the Supreme Court and Mitt Romney accepted my evidence that corporations are people too. We are one step closer to the real Holy Grail: full horizontal integration.
I have a dream that one day, we will be a publicly traded corporation fully embedded into every facet of our customer’s lives — from when they awake in the morning to when they go to sleep on J Cole Roc Nation mattresses at night. As (non Roc-affiliated actress) Mae West once said: too much of a good thing can be wonderful.
It is our job to increase intrinsic business value. “FuckWithMeYouKnowIGotIt” will be the morning alarm on your Samsung droid, charged by your Duracell Powermat. You will brush your teeth with Roc-a-Colgate toothpaste. The tentative ad campaign with Colgate-Palmolive will revolve around the cool and credible puns I bring to the topic of “hard whites.”
You will wear your Jay-Z line of Tom Ford suits to work, where you will use a Hewlett Packard “Hands” laptop. Maybe you’ll take a break to watch a whimsical clip on Viddy. You’ll dine on smoked trout salad at the Spotted Pig and later, drink D’uesse cognac while watching (Roc Nation Sports client) Kevin Durant play at the Barclay’s Center or on Samsung big-screens at the 40/40.
America must be a Roc Nation. We can’t rest on our laurels, even if Jeffrey Deitch has assured you that the laurels are originals from the temple of Athena. Women will smother themselves in “Beyonce Heat,” gold sparkling body lotion. They’ll prepare for bed with Rita Ora’s “Young Forever” facial cream. Memphis Bleek’s line of new and improved toilet paper will be America’s most hygienic option. This doesn’t even get into my yet unannounced, Roc Nautical Nation, a yacht, scuba diving, and fashion line.
Magna Carta Holy Grail finds us one step closer. For the first time in history, we have successfully absolved the company of any financial or creative risk. Our deal with Samsung is worth $30 million, with a quarter of it going to ya boy for “music rights and endorsement fees.” Needless to say, our Christmas party this year will be cray. Jeffrey Koons will be making animal balloons. Holla.
What’s more exciting is the already half-a-million strong information database we’re mining. When customers download the Jay-Z Magna Carta App, we get their e-mail addresses and social media accounts. It’s a win-win situation. They get the excitement of being a part of the innovation of App-Rap and we’re better suited to market what the Roc is cooking. Apologies for the pun, I’ve been training with The Rock lately. Good guy!
During the recording of Magna Carta, I kept on thinking about something Don Draper once told me: “you are the product. You feeling something. That’s what sells.” So this latest investment of ours is about me feeling things. Sometimes I get mad when Scott Boras says that he can out-agent me. Sometimes I get peeved when Eli Broad out-bids me for a Rothko at a Christie’s auction. Sometimes I get frustrated when the baby needs pampers and I want to go to the Hamptons for three weeks, yet I’m trapped in a Manhattan apartment without it’s own bowling alley.
But most of the time, it’s about how great it is to drive a Porsche Diablo and eat vanilla wafers in a villa. If you’ve ever been in a country club or know someone who has been in a country club, you are really going to be fucking with this record. It’s another magnum opus — think of it as Picasso’s Blue Ivy period.
Greed is God body. It’s what propels us to become global leaders in entertainment, textiles, and potent potables. It’s why we’re currently in discussions with the French government to construct an underwater pipeline that will bring Ace of Spades champagne to every home valued above $10 million in Suffolk County. Who doesn’t want a hundred million billion trillion dollars?
I also do it for my culture. Without my product “recommendations,” the youth of today would lack proper aspirations. Until I started making art, few knew the difference between a 4.0 and a 4.6 Range Rover or the difference between Bordeaux, Burgundy, and Riesling. No strip club ever seemed like Oxford. People would conservatively dream about flying first class instead of a NetJet. (What up, Warren Beezy).
My words are bonds. When I write hooks like “I don’t pop molly, I rock Tom Ford,” I’m giving the youth a chance to understand that happiness doesn’t come in a $20 capsule, but in a $2600 single-breasted grey stripe suit with Jacquard stitching. When I mention Basquiat every fourth bar, it’s my way of comparing myself to an artist who once talked about “big money crushed into shoes.” Sadly, he never had the chance to peep my limited edition, $2500 Brooklyn Zoo Air Jordans made of stingray, anaconda, ostrich, crocodile, calf, alligator, boa, python, lizard, and elephant.
Old fans have told me, “quit old man.” I would if I could, but I can’t, I’m hot. And this summer, my brand will make you dance. If we were to abstain from offering a 2013 model for consumption, we would lose out on roughly $100 million in revenue from ticket sales, merchandise, and corporate sponsorship. And rest assured, meticulous quality control was ensured to guarantee full market share.
There’s a sample of a Pimp C speech to invite Southern Samsung Galaxy users. There’s a Rick Ross appearance to ensure the undying loyalty of lobster chefs. I do double-time raps over trap beats. Biggie pops up on “Jay-Z Blue” to remind you that we will forever be besties. Beyoncé appears for an unofficial “Bonnie and Clyde 03” sequel. “Heaven” might as well be a Wu-Tang song with Justin Timberlake in place of Blue Raspberry.
The true old-school heads will go ap(p)eshit for Nas rhyming about Fila sweats and ’88 over a Pharrell beat. It even references Tribe Called Quest, just like when I did it on “22 Two’s,” except with 200% more Basquiat. I even got Frank Ocean to talk about Basquiat. I’m trying to convince him to dress up like Jean for the “Oceans” video. Cross your stick figures.
Lest you think that I’m catering too much to an urban 18-34 demographic, I take my du-rag off to remind everyone that I’m still the CEO/rapper you’d want to buy a beer from. I mention the time that one of my executive vice-presidents showed me a Miley Cyrus twerk video. I shout out “Losing My Religion” and Lady Gaga’s little monsters. I even mention Instagram and hash tags to show that I’m still a cool guy who is up on things on the World Wide Web. Might shut down your Internet. #LOL.
To triumph over the derivatives that have flooded the financial market, it’s important for our brand to maintain cutting edge youth appeal from Echo Park to Bushwick. So when my iPod holder passed me songs from Adrian Younge and Gonjasufi to sample, I agreed faster than you can say “swag dracula.” Speaking of which, I carefully applied the flows of popular young rappers like Lil Reese, Ace Hood, Drake, and Meek Mill. Needless to say, I think we can put a halt on that severance package to Young Chris.
Some might wonder why Justin Timberlake is the first voice you hear on the record. My answer to them is simple: “Legends” tour. For full synergy, I even shouted out our Pasadena Rose Bowl date on “F.U.T.W.” But I might be most proud of “Holy Grail,” where I finally discovered the right way to re-interpret “Smells Like Teen Spirit.”
One moment, J.T. and I were brainstorming ideas over a modest breakfast of bagels and white truffle cream cheese and goji berry infused Riesling jelly. The next, we had the idea of pairing him — the guy from N’ Sync — with the rebel icon who wore a “Corporate Magazines Still Suck” shirt on the cover of Rolling Stone. We knew it would make dollars, but more importantly, it just made too much sense.
Some critics will mock the stiltedness of my flow or the corniness of the lyrics. But there are enough content verticals to ensure that everyone can find at least a couple songs to consume. We are too big to fail. The new rules are the same as the old ones — they’re whatever we decide them to be. Magna Carta Holy Grail is the most exciting value added proposition for the third quarter of 2013. It promises to yield maximum cash dividends. Checks coming soon. You … are … not … ready.
The Black Warren Buffet (Shawn Carter)