Nettspend Grows Up
“They definitely don’t got this watch,” he says, flashing his wrist. “It’s an A.P. Chandelier.” The first big thing he bought was a car for his mom. He has a car, too, a Mercedes-AMG G63, in Los Angeles, though he never drives it.
“If you haven’t taken your driver’s test, go take it,” he advises, to no one in particular. The conversation drops out again. The din of the restaurant takes over.
Suddenly, Nett glances at Nolan.
“This place is overstimulating me,” he mumbles. “I can’t even breathe in this bitch!”
The room is loud. Glasses clinking. Patrons shouting over bumping French house music. Waitstaff doing air-traffic control: “Beep, beep, beep! Coming through!” Lucien being Lucien. Still, the guys maintain, this is the spot. “All of my friends go here, so that’s how I know about it,” Nett explains. “We would just be posting here at night, just chilling.”
There’s a beat, and then a bit of a shuffle. Leaving behind a mostly full plate of buttered noodles, Nett excuses himself to go outside again, this time for good. Nolan heads out after him, as the rapper retreats to the black SUV still parked outside.
His friends Bryce and Nick hang back, still working on their meals. “We’ve known him before this,” Bryce tells me, referring to the general this of Nettspend’s new life: the all-night studio sessions, the magazine interviews, the on-the-label steak dinners. Having already heard some of it, they’re just as excited about their friend’s new music as Nett’s fans are, and they utilize our Nett-free time to hype up his freshly baked tracks and ask me what my favorite songs are.
