Key GLOCK
"CONCEPT 1"
"DEAD PRESIDENTS"
TREATMENT
Inspired by the Hughes Brother's "Dead Presidents", Boosie's "Video concept 1"
will be a cinematic short film of love, hurt, pressure, bravery & Moxy.
Act 1 - The arrival home
The setting "Urban Town Circa 1973",
The video opens with Key Glock stepping out of a taxi, confidently hitting the sidewalk dressed in his post-army gear. A rifle is slung over his shoulder, and a long army duffle bag hangs from his hand. He's headed home, excited to reunite with his girl and meet their new baby after returning from the war.
As Key walks through the neighborhood, he runs into some familiar faces — old friends posted on the block. They share a few warm words, laughter, and handshakes. Just then, his girl drives by and spots him. Their eyes lock. She immediately pulls over, and they share an emotional embrace in the street.
Key quickly tosses his bag into the trunk, gently scoops up the baby, and slides into the front seat. As they drive off together, the moment captures the beginning of a new chapter — a future filled with love, family, and peace.
The story continues with Key Glock and his girl riding together in the car, soaking in the peaceful moment. Suddenly, a tense shift hits the air — OG Cutty pulls up alongside them and spots Key Glock.
Without hesitation, OG Cutty tries to offer Key’s girl some money through the window, but she refuses, clearly sensing the underlying tension. OG Cutty then asks about the baby, adding another layer to the growing frustration etched on Key's face.The camera captures the rising heat between them as Key Glock leans into a tense exchange with OG Cutty through the car window. Words are traded — sharp, emotional, and raw. The argument escalates, exposing old wounds and the unresolved conflict between them, leaving the air charged with anger and distrust.
Act 2 - The Plan
The music cuts.
We fade into a dimly lit room, heavy with tension and low whispers. Key Glock sits at a battered table, surrounded by his old OG from the neighborhood, two hardened friends from the war, and a fierce soul sister — a former Black Panther, skilled in weapons and strategy.
The air is thick with cigarette smoke and heavy silence as maps, blueprints, and surveillance photos are spread out across the table. A single flickering bulb swings overhead, casting long, restless shadows on their faces.
This isn’t just a reunion — it’s the beginning of a plan. A high-stakes bank robbery.The crew leans in, eyes sharp, exchanging nods and low, urgent words. Every move is calculated. Every second will count. In this room, under the cover of darkness, old loyalties are tested, new ones are forged, and the first steps of the heist are set into motion.
Act 3 - The heist (LAst Verse)
We open on OG behind the wheel of a long, wide-bodied, four-door old-school car, its engine rumbling low as he creeps toward a stop sign. The block is still — heavy with anticipation. On lookout, one of Key Glock’s army friends scans the street from a shadowy corner. Nearby, the soul sister, locked and loaded, hides inside a trash can — perfectly still. Beneath the loading dock, Key Glock and his second army brother lie in wait, weapons ready, hearts pounding.
Right on cue, the Brinks truck pulls up and parks. The dock door creaks open. A guard steps out first, armed, cautious. A second guard — the passenger — moves toward the rear of the truck. But the sharp-eyed driver catches something out of place. His instincts kick in. He jumps out, gun drawn.
Gunfire erupts.
The first shots miss, sparking chaos.
In a split second, the soul sister bursts from the trash can, unleashing a fierce barrage of bullets. The street explodes into a full-blown firefight. Sparks fly. Concrete chips. The smell of gunpowder fills the air. Amid the chaos, the crew snatches the cash and scrambles back toward OG’s waiting car. Tires screech. Doors slam. OG floors it, the old-school car fishtailing down the block as they disappear into the distance — free, for now, with the bag secured.
After the chaos of the escape, the screen cuts sharply to black — a heavy silence hanging in the air.
We transition to a gritty daytime scene at the meetup spot. Key Glock, OG, and the crew sit around a battered table, counting stacks of cash under harsh sunlight that pours through cracked windows. The room is tense but alive with a quiet energy — the adrenaline of survival still fresh. Stack after stack grows. Faces flash with brief moments of satisfaction — but also unease. They think they made it.
Outside, the danger is already closing in.
In the bright light of day, unmarked cars creep down the block.Uniformed officers move with quiet urgency, slipping into position — weapons drawn, radios crackling softly. Tactical teams crouch behind cars, ease toward doorways, finger signals flying between them. The crew inside is still oblivious.
Focused on the money.
Focused on the moment.
We see the police setting the trap. We feel the noose tightening. But before the first order is barked — before the door crashes in —
We cut to black.
The end.
