Bri's song, "On the Come Up," is representative of a variety of things over the course of the novel. It first emerges as a symbol for Bri's youth and her need for mentorship and specifically, her need for Aunt Pooh to be there for her. Bri angrily admits to the reader after recording her song that she wouldn't have said what she said had Pooh been there, which suggests Bri sees her song as a symbol of her sense of abandonment. In contrast, Pooh and other adults, including Trey, see the lyrics and subject matter as proof that Bri has no real-world experience and, in her immaturity, is willing to say anything to attract attention and get famous.
The lyrics themselves speak to the ways that Bri—and, the novel suggests, people of color in America more broadly—feels pushed down and invalidated by society. However, even this interpretation isn't entirely straightforward: as true and meaningful as Bri's lyrics might be for her and for the black residents of Garden Heights, white people in the Midtown neighborhood see the song as the reason for the racially charged events happening at Midtown, not a response to them. In this way, the song more broadly comes to represent the ways that black culture—and the black people creating that culture—are vilified.
Bri’s Song, "On the Come Up" Quotes in On the Come Up
I almost roll my eyes. How would these people feel if they knew Milez was here to see how messed up we are to remind him how good he's got it? He's gonna go to his nice house in the suburbs and forget this in a week, tops, while we're still struggling.
My situation shouldn't be his after-school special.
There I am, on the front page of Blackout. They posted a picture from when I was in the Ring. The headline? "Teen Daughter of Murdered Underground Rap Legend Lawless Just Killed Us Her Damn Self with This New Heat!"
Side note: Do I have a name or nah? It's short enough that it could've fit, too.
"What's wrong with what you say?"
"I talk about guns and stuff, Curtis. He doesn't want people to think that's me."
"They're gonna think it anyway. If you can get something from this, forget the nonsense and go for it."
"You know who the biggest consumers of hip-hop are?"
"White kids in the suburbs," Miles answers dryly, as if he's heard this before.
"Exactly! White kids in the suburbs," Supreme says. "You know what white kids in the suburbs love? Listening to shit that scares their parents. You scare the hell outta their folks, they'll flock to you like birds. The videos from tonight? Gonna scare the hell outta them. Watch your numbers shoot up."
It actually makes sense that white kids in the suburbs will love the videos. But Long and Tate called me a "hoodlum," and I can't seem to shake that word.
"But," he says, in a way that tells me to wipe the smile off my face, "although I get the song, now people are gonna take your words at face value. And let's be real: You're clueless about half the shit you rapped about. Clips on your hips?" Trey twists his mouth. "You know damn well you don't know what a clip is, Bri."
"Yes I do!" It's the thingy that goes on the thingy on a gun.
She's still not listening to me. "If you would just listen to the song—it's not what they made it out to be, I swear. It's about playing into their assumptions about me."
"You don't get that luxury, Brianna! We don't! They never think we're just playing!"
But it's like how when she does stuff I don't like and says it's "for my own good." This is for hers. I'm willing to do anything to keep that sadness in her eyes from becoming permanent.
"That's right, fuck censorship," I say, to three hundred viewers. "They don't get it because it ain't for them to get. Besides, if I am strapped like backpacks, maybe it's 'cause I gotta be, bitch. Ain't my fault if it makes you uncomfortable. I'm uncomfortable every goddamn day of my life."
"Me and my twin know all the words to your song!" this snaggle-toothed girl pipes up.
I scribble my name for her. "Oh, for real?"
"'Strapped like backpacks, I pull triggers,'" she and her sister squeak. "'All the clips on my hips change my figure.'"
I stop writing.
How old are they? Six? Seven?
It's like having a bucket of ice water thrown into my face.
Ratchet hood rat.
Thousands of people just heard me act like that. Millions more may see the video. They won't care that my life is a mess and I had every right to be mad. They'll just see an angry black girl from the ghetto, acting like they expected me to act.
Supreme laughs to himself. "You played the role," he says. "Goddamn, you played the role."
Problem is, I wasn't playing. That's what I've become.
Bri’s Song, "On the Come Up" Symbol Timeline in On the Come Up
