Dre is standing alone in the middle of an empty downtown Buffalo, New York street on a clear summer morning, performing a rap song directly to camera about his life. This is a music video. Dre is the only speaking person in the entire video and he faces the camera and raps every line with maximum confidence and controlled aggression.
Dre is a 40 year old man, 6'0" with a heavily muscular athletic build and dark skin, of African American descent, with a clean shaved bald head and a short full black beard. He wears a fitted white ribbed cotton tank top, red athletic mesh shorts with a white stripe running down each side, red black and white high-top basketball sneakers, a thin silver chain around his neck and small silver hoop earrings. He has dark tattoos on both forearms. Dre has a commanding, intelligent and street-smart personality with a sharp sense of humor underneath it. He is proud, direct, emotionally intense and completely sure of himself. He does not smile in this video except once, near the end.
The street is a wide four-lane road running between tall early-century brick and limestone office buildings with a clear blue sky overhead. Parked cars line both curbs. The camera is low, near the pavement, looking slightly up at Dre so he appears powerful and towering. The sunlight is hard and bright and casts a sharp shadow on the concrete beside him.
Dre stands with his feet planted wide in the center of the empty road, arms loose at his sides, staring directly into the camera without moving.
Dre speaks, low and flat, "Yeah. Glenwood Ave. West side. Seven-one-six."
The camera pushes slowly toward Dre until his head and shoulders fill the frame. He tilts his chin down slightly and raises one eyebrow.
Dre speaks, quieter, "They call me Andre now. Dre ain't dead. Dre just got a passport. Grandma. This one's yours."
Dre begins walking directly toward the camera down the center line of the empty street as the camera retreats ahead of him at the same speed, keeping him centered in frame from the knees up. He gestures sharply with his right hand on the downbeat of every line.
Dre raps, "Lake effect off Erie hit the window like a fist, six years old in a coat two sizes too big."
Dre raps, "Glenwood Ave, west side, where the salt truck don't come. Learned to dig out a Chevy 'fore I learned how to run."
Dre stops walking and stands still in the middle of the street. He points down at the pavement beneath his own feet with two fingers, hard, three times.
Dre raps, "Mama worked doubles, came home wearing the shift. Kissed me on the forehead and went right back to it."
Dre raps, "Pops six-foot-plenty, hands like a wrecking ball. Big Andre scared the block, never raised 'em at all."
The camera circles slowly around Dre from his left side to his right as he turns his head to follow it, never breaking eye contact with the lens.
Dre raps, "They split early. Neither one of 'em split on me. Grandma held the house, held the line, held the key."
Dre raps, "Hutch Tech in the morning, breath fogging up the glass. They ain't build that school for me, so I sat in the front of the class."
Dre spreads both arms wide at his sides, palms open, head tipped back, standing dead center in the empty road with the full downtown skyline rising behind him. The camera pulls back and up into a high wide shot revealing the entire empty street and the buildings on both sides.
Dre raps, "From the cold, from the cold, from that concrete cold. Buffalo built the man, Brick City built the code."
Dre raps, "Every stamp in this passport was a debt that I owed. Seven-one-six on my chest everywhere I go."
The camera returns to a tight low angle on Dre. He leans in toward the lens, jaw tight, and jabs a finger at the camera.
Dre raps, "Brick City, Henrietta, wind cut sideways on the hill. Twenty credits, no sleep, and a hunger you can't kill."
Dre raps, "Three a.m. in the lab with the logic gates humming. Only face like mine in the room, so I stayed running."
Dre lets one corner of his mouth lift into a small smile for the first time in the video, shaking his head slowly as he raps, remembering something funny.
Dre raps, "Roommate caught chest pains, I sat that ER out. Four hours, one a.m., told him boy you gon' be fine."
Dre raps, "Backed the car out the lot and ripped the steering column out. Drove home like a shopping cart and laughed the whole ride."
The smile drops. Dre stands square to the camera, both hands at his chest, and his voice gets heavier.
Dre raps, "Walked that stage, framed the paper, sent the picture up north. Mama cried for twenty minutes, said that's what it was for."
Dre raps, "Now it's DC, Director, got the roadmap on my back. Every swipe in America touch a system that I mapped."
Dre walks slowly toward the camera again with the sun directly behind his head, throwing his face into partial shadow. He raps the hook with his fist raised beside his shoulder.
Dre raps, "From the cold, from the cold, from that concrete cold. Buffalo built the man, Brick City built the code."
Dre raps, "Every stamp in this passport was a debt that I owed. Seven-one-six on my chest everywhere I go."
Dre stops and stands still, arms crossed over his chest, staring directly into the lens with total confidence.
Dre raps, "Old head hear my name and go DRE? Oh, you was cold! Yeah, he still in here, he just wearing better clothes."
Dre raps, "Suit fits, but that winter still live inside my chest. I go by Andre now. But Dre still write the checks."
Dre uncrosses his arms and opens his hands out to the sides, shrugging once, then plants his feet again.
Dre raps, "Used to be scared to fly, wouldn't board, wouldn't go. Missed my brother's wedding out in Ireland. That's my soul."
Dre raps, "Now it's Dead Sea mud on my face, salt up in my beard. Northern lights, frozen volcano, Nairobi. I ain't scared."
The camera drifts in slowly and settles into a close shot on Dre's face and shoulders. His delivery softens but stays intense.
Dre raps, "Two drinks in I'm hugging everybody in the room. That's just Grandma's blood, she ain't raise nothing cruel."
Dre lowers his head for a moment, then lifts it and looks straight into the camera with wet eyes and a hard set jaw.
Dre raps, "They put her in the ground and I ain't been the same. But every room I walk in, I'm walking in her name."
Dre takes a long slow breath and squares his shoulders. The camera begins pulling back away from him down the empty street.
Dre raps, "Cold made me. Snow raised me. Glenwood paid me. Every door they closed on that block only made me."
The camera continues pulling back and rising until Dre is a small figure standing alone at the center of the wide empty downtown street with the buildings towering on both sides and the blue sky above.
Dre raps, "Tell 'em Dre out the 716, still standing, still free. And I brought the whole damn city with me. Ya heard?"
Dre stands motionless in the center of the empty street, arms at his sides, staring up into the camera as it continues to rise away from him.
Written by @derekjadams · Directed by the engine
