Druski and Timothée Chalamet Turned Brownsville Into the Hunger Games of Clout

Brooklyn turned out every flavor of human being the borough produces. There were questionable comedians with fake beards, aspiring rappers, reclusive singers, dancers, and people who simply had nothing better to do. Ring lights were everywhere, acting as people’s personal street lamps. “Videographers”(otherwise known as loyal best friends with iPhones) circled their subjects like paparazzi. Every third person had a selfie stick.

Timothée Chalamet, Oscar-nominated, Dune-surfing, Wonka-hatted prince of the internet, was this evening’s special guest judge. Previous Coulda Been guest judges include Sexyy Red, Jaylen Brown, and Mark Wahlberg, but something about Timothée evaluating Brooklyn rappers outside a warehouse in East New York felt very 2025. Even as the sun dipped and the wind chilled, very few people left.

For anyone unfamiliar with the universe the aspirants were trying to break into, Coulda Been Records started as a fake label in Druski’s comedy skits. It’s a satirical look at the music industry, complete with fake contracts and Druski acting as a fake executive. 

The line outside the Brooklyn auditions felt like a sociological study. Tiffany Williams from Brownsville arrived with purpose, charisma, and stud swagger. 

“One of my friends messaged me about this opportunity,” she said. “I felt like it was a time to start networking and put myself out there, just with me having a big personality. I'm a dancer and a rapper, so I feel like I could bring the vibes and energy.” 

She made it clear that although she fits Druski’s documented attraction to studs on his Coulda Been Love show, she was her for one thing only.

“I ain't looking for love. I ain't looking for love. I love my baby girl at home," she said. "Sorry, Druski.” 

What she was there to do was rep for the stud community.

“My goal is to definitely be a face of the studs that have raw talent and being myself,” she said. 

Jonathan St. Hilaire, a tattoo artist from Queens, wasn’t even planning to be until he heard about it at his nearby tattoo parlor.

“He wanted a crazy tattoo on his face,” he said of a client. “So I put the stencil on his face of an ice cream cone and he pulled up. I just hit 10 million views on TikTok. So I was, like I'm in here. I'm gonna pop out.”

When asked about the guest judges, he said, “I know Mark Wahlberg. But I don't know who the other dude is”—the “other dude” being Timothée Chalamet. 

And then there was Money Gripp, a rapper, self-described Bed-Stuy legend, and full-time entrepreneur. He arrived prepared, polished in a brown coat, and ready to give the crowd a show. 

“We rolling with heat controlling these streets / I’m fucking broads that look like Aaliyah in them Tommy Jeans" he rapped. His bars turned heads immediately. "Fucking with Money Gripp probably wind up in the body bag, with a body tag / Second to your final destination/ No hesitation / You're meditating revelation.” 

Gripp’s friend texted him the flyer the night before, and he knew it was his time. 

“He's like, ‘You gotta show up early. It's gonna be a line out there,’” Gripp said. "So I had to make sure I come through looking the part, talking the part, walking the walk, Brooklyn-style.”

Gripp was more than ready to pitch himself. 

“I'm a rhyme slinger all day and every day," he said. “I just want to see Druski and get my music out there, get my brand out there. And you need great people around you to be great.

“I'm just trying to take my local deal and go national and then global, trying to be a global citizen. They call me international Gripp. You got to grind hard, work hard, all money in, no money out.”

While Gripp knew exactly what he was doing, another attendee, who went by Mellow, fully admitted she had absolutely no plan at all.

“I thought this was for something else,” she said. When asked if she had a talent, she said simply: “No, girl. I'm just here winging it, trying my best. I'm going in there with confidence."

And, honestly, that seemed to be the thesis of the entire event: people really showing up with hope, delusion, and vibes, at best. As the wait time stretched, people began racing each other between barricades out of boredom. Security repeatedly tried to organize the crowd into something resembling a line. Some attendees carried guitars they definitely did not know how to play; others arrived dressed like they had already won the competition. Every so often, someone’s “paparazzi” would follow them up and down the sidewalk as if they were headlining the Met Gala instead of an audition for a spot on a fictional record label.

Whether anyone in that crowd had real/actual talent remains debatable. What wasn’t debatable was how much people wanted their moment—ANY MOMENT—in front of any camera. For many, showing up was the display of talent.

We’ll see who made the final cut soon enough, when the Coulda Been episode drops, but if one thing’s clear, it’s that Brooklyn understood the assignment: to do whatever it took to make it to the cut, with absolutely no guarantee that whatever it wa they were doing would work.