Lil Wayne

Later that night, Wayne is gliding through a model-filled subterranean VIP chamber at a Miami Heat game, Mack Maine with him, his bodyguard Anton right behind. He makes his way through the locker-room tunnel, and settles into his courtside seat. Across the way, Dwyane Wade is chatting with Timbaland; LeBron James so close you can see his delts twitch.

Wayne likes going to Heat games, but he’s not a Heat fan. Especially not tonight, when they’re playing his New Orleans Hornets. At halftime, the Hornets’ Chris Paul comes over to say hi ”“ he’s another friend who visited Wayne in jail. Wayne gives him a hug, and says he’ll be at his charity bowling tournament later in the week. Paul sees Wayne’s purple Hornets cap and grins.

Unfortunately, it’s not their night. The Hornets are down by 15 with three minutes left to play when Wayne decides to make for the exit. Camera phones and the eyes of the Heat Dancers trail him the whole way. He’s the biggest star in the building not wearing a uniform.

But back home after the game, he’s feeling a little hurt. “Them niggas never speak to a nigga,” he says.

He’s talking about James and Wade. “They don’t chuck me the deuce or nothing! Nigga spent all that money on them fucking tickets”¦ come holla at me!”

“Maybe they’re intimidated,” offers Scoob.

“Intimidated? Of what? They think I’m gonna kill ’em or something? Them niggas is LeBron and D-Wade! They don’t be intimidated of anything.”

If it were anyone else, he probably wouldn’t care. But since it’s those two, it rankles. Wayne is the greatest ”“ he wants to be recognised by the greats.

“I asked my ho why they don’t speak to me, and she said, ”˜’Cause you always rooting against them.’ But everybody they’ve played, I’m cool with a nigga on the other team!” He takes a sip of pineapple juice. “We sit right there by them little bitch-ass niggas. At least come ask me why I’m not rooting for you.”

A few minutes later, one of Wayne’s phones rings. It’s Stephanie, a new girl he’s been seeing. He goes to let her in. She’s white, brunette, cute and petite, in tourniquet-tight jeans and zebra-print heels. Wayne pulls her chair out for her at the kitchen table, and his chef, Noel, brings over two plates. As they dine on tilapia and rice, his foot finds hers under the table.

Wayne says of all the hard parts of being locked up, one of the hardest was not having conjugal visits. (You have to be married.) “Don’t remind me, brother!” The closest thing he had to female companionship was the picture of a woman from a magazine taped to his wall ”“ his Rita Hayworth-in-Shawshank. After a while, “Anybody starts looking good in that bitch. Like, ”˜Damn, look at her with that uniform on. Mrs Officer!’”

They finish eating, and Noel brings over dessert. It’s not that he couldn’t handle chastity, Wayne says. He’s gone eight months before ”“ or at least five or six. He does it every time he’s on the road. “If you meet a girl on tour, you know she just wants to get fucked,” he says. “But I don’t fuck. I make love. If you get it on with me, you gotta know I’m gonna look you in the eyes. You’re gonna be touched. You’re gonna feel it.”

Stephanie swallows her cheesecake.

Noel comes to clear their plates, sticks the Tupperware’d leftovers in the fridge next to the Fiji waters and Swedish energy drinks. “Now if you’ll excuse me,” says Wayne, “I’m gonna take a few minutes to go talk to my girl.” He turns the TV on to SportsCenter and hands over the remote. Then he and Stephanie disappear upstairs.