The sound of metal colliding and a deafening explosion tore apart the night sky on the Brooklyn Expressway. A black Cadillac Escalade, a familiar symbol associated with Jay-Z’s luxury and style, suddenly lost control at high speed. The car spun around several times before crashing into the steel median. In an instant, it turned into a fiery red fireball, billowing smoke in the middle of the busy road.

A witness at the scene was shocked to recount: “I heard a scream, then the fire engulfed the entire car. There was a desperate banging on the door… and then silence.” Dozens of paparazzi who had been following Jay-Z’s motorcade quickly pointed their lenses, flashing continuously, recording every tragic moment. The police urgently blocked off the area, curious fans flocked to it, many people cried when they learned that the living symbol of global hip hop was in the car.

Firefighters doused the hoses with water, but the ferocious flames engulfed the entire car in minutes. A firefighter choked out, “We were helpless. The heat was too high, no one could get in in time.” When paramedics finally pulled Jay-Z out, his body was motionless, his face was covered in smoke, and his breathing was shallow. On the stretcher, an oxygen mask was placed over his face, his chest pumping repeatedly. The ambulance, siren blaring, cut through the chaotic traffic, and rushed straight to NewYork-Presbyterian Hospital.

In the ICU, the cold white light reflected on the tense faces of the medical team. The monitor kept flashing red, and his heart rate dropped to a flat line. Electric shocks were administered, and resuscitation drugs were pumped continuously, but Jay-Z’s body no longer responded. After more than an hour of desperate efforts, the head of the department announced his death, his eyes filled with tears: “We did everything.”

Just a few minutes later, the shocking news spread around the world. The hashtag #PrayForJayZ quickly turned into #GoodbyeJayZ, taking over social media. Beyoncé, in her grief, wrote just two words: “My King.” Kanye West choked up: “A monument is gone, hip hop has lost its soul.” The White House released a statement: “Jay-Z is not just an artist, but the voice of a generation.”

In Brooklyn, thousands of fans flocked to the Manhattan Bridge area. A sea of ​​white candles was lit, Jay-Z’s portrait was placed in the middle of a wreath. Many people burst into tears and sang immortal songs like “Empire State of Mind” in sobs. Paparazzi continued to capture every tragic moment, the flashbulbs mixed with candlelight creating a scene that was both overwhelming and mournful.

The tragedy did not stop there. When the crowd was too crowded at the memorial service, a metal railing suddenly collapsed, causing dozens of people to fall. Screams rang out, ambulance sirens blared, a double whammy that heightened the mourning mood.

Jay-Z, the man who rose from poverty in Brooklyn to become a global icon, lay dead in the very land he once called home. The world was silent in grief. The day of his funeral was declared a “cultural national funeral,” with the undying promise: “Jay-Z’s music will resonate forever, from the streets of Brooklyn to the ends of the earth.”