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thesynthesis;2469517 said:I feel you, P only saying what E Money Bags told him, so niggas can,t be mad at P, however he got a few of his facts mixed up, which again is not his fault, thats what he was told, even if it were a bunch of lies.
We know E Money Bags wasnt tight with Pac, we however know Stretch was one of Pacs closet roaddawgs, but after he got shot up Pac cut Stretch out of his life because he felt them niggas were in on it and they were still rollin with Haitian Jack. So whatever E Money Bags told P was from a salty point of view because Pac was dissin his man Stretch. Its like asking Memphis Bleek to talk good of Bean Sigel after the Jay drama.
on some real shit.
We need more excerpts from the book
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thesynthesis
New member
dalyricalbandit;2470160 said:some of u folks should be detectives cause ya niggas solving shit these abc boys aint
alot of of what is being said by me is from the feds who investigated the case then retired, therefore were allowed to make the info public
i cant wait until more of the officers involved retire cuz they fo sure gonna make the info public, write books etc
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blackstarr
New member
On 50 Cent killing G-Unit Endorsement Checks
50 said: “I’m not going to do it all for you. As a matter of fact, I’m not doing anymore features on any of y’all songs or videos because I’m carrying all the weight. Y’all have to start pulling your own weight. Yo Buck! You there? You heard what I said?”
Buck mumbled through the speakerphone: “Yeah I’m here. Don’t worry 50, I’m the cleanup man. I got hits on this album. We good”
That was some real disrespectuful, cocky sh*t he just said, I thought to myself. What, is he trying to say his sh*t is better than 50 Cent, Mobb Deep, Yayo and Banks? Buck used the wrong choice of words, as far I’m concerned. Then 50 continued: “Yayo was locked up and his album was on hold until he got out. He missed a lot of big promotion while he was gone but he did what he had to do when he got home.”
Yayo cut in and said: “I’m not complaining about album sales man. I’m good. Whatever needs to be done, I’m doing it.”
Then 50 said: “Look at what P just did with his videos on the internet. He shot a video for a mix CD song on his own. He’s not waiting for me to help him, he’s pushing himself, making himself hot. Niggas need to be doing sh*t like that.”
Then Banks came out of the left field and said: “What? Is this meeting all about me? Because you seem to be focused on me the most.”
“No, it’s not about you.” 50 said. “I’m talking to everybody, but you need to start doing your promo work before you start complaining about your album sales. I want everybody in here to look under the table and tell me what you see.”
Everybody looked under the table, confused. “I don’t see nobody rocking G-Unit sneakers.” 50 said. “I see Gucci, Louis, Fendi, Timberland but I pay your endorsement check every month to wear G-Unit.”
50 made that endorsement deal with Yayo, Banks, Buck and maybe Olivia before Mobb Deep came around. We weren’t a part of that deal so he wasn’t talking to us. “From now on, I’m deading that deal so you won’t get your checks anymore.” 50 said. “So y’all can forget about that.”
Wow, I thought. If 50 gave us that deal, I would’ve worn G-Unit to sleep at night and in my casket. Buck mumbled over the phone once more: “I got this 50, me and Spider Loc is going hard. I’m the cleanup man, trust me.” Buck needed to shut up and listen to what was being said. He needed to hand in a good album instead of talking all that cleanup man sh*t.
“This nigga is fronting.” Banks jumped in and said. “He ain’t happy. Ain’t nobody happy with this label.” Banks slammed his fitted cap on the table and sit back on the chair.
“Oh yeah?” 50 looked at Banks and said. “You wanna bounce like Game and start your own label? I got you. I’ll call my lawyer and tell him to get you a deal over at Geffen and you can do your own thing from now on.” Banks stormed out of the meeting.
50 said: “I’m not going to do it all for you. As a matter of fact, I’m not doing anymore features on any of y’all songs or videos because I’m carrying all the weight. Y’all have to start pulling your own weight. Yo Buck! You there? You heard what I said?”
Buck mumbled through the speakerphone: “Yeah I’m here. Don’t worry 50, I’m the cleanup man. I got hits on this album. We good”
That was some real disrespectuful, cocky sh*t he just said, I thought to myself. What, is he trying to say his sh*t is better than 50 Cent, Mobb Deep, Yayo and Banks? Buck used the wrong choice of words, as far I’m concerned. Then 50 continued: “Yayo was locked up and his album was on hold until he got out. He missed a lot of big promotion while he was gone but he did what he had to do when he got home.”
Yayo cut in and said: “I’m not complaining about album sales man. I’m good. Whatever needs to be done, I’m doing it.”
Then 50 said: “Look at what P just did with his videos on the internet. He shot a video for a mix CD song on his own. He’s not waiting for me to help him, he’s pushing himself, making himself hot. Niggas need to be doing sh*t like that.”
Then Banks came out of the left field and said: “What? Is this meeting all about me? Because you seem to be focused on me the most.”
“No, it’s not about you.” 50 said. “I’m talking to everybody, but you need to start doing your promo work before you start complaining about your album sales. I want everybody in here to look under the table and tell me what you see.”
Everybody looked under the table, confused. “I don’t see nobody rocking G-Unit sneakers.” 50 said. “I see Gucci, Louis, Fendi, Timberland but I pay your endorsement check every month to wear G-Unit.”
50 made that endorsement deal with Yayo, Banks, Buck and maybe Olivia before Mobb Deep came around. We weren’t a part of that deal so he wasn’t talking to us. “From now on, I’m deading that deal so you won’t get your checks anymore.” 50 said. “So y’all can forget about that.”
Wow, I thought. If 50 gave us that deal, I would’ve worn G-Unit to sleep at night and in my casket. Buck mumbled over the phone once more: “I got this 50, me and Spider Loc is going hard. I’m the cleanup man, trust me.” Buck needed to shut up and listen to what was being said. He needed to hand in a good album instead of talking all that cleanup man sh*t.
“This nigga is fronting.” Banks jumped in and said. “He ain’t happy. Ain’t nobody happy with this label.” Banks slammed his fitted cap on the table and sit back on the chair.
“Oh yeah?” 50 looked at Banks and said. “You wanna bounce like Game and start your own label? I got you. I’ll call my lawyer and tell him to get you a deal over at Geffen and you can do your own thing from now on.” Banks stormed out of the meeting.
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blackstarr
New member
On Havoc shooting An A&R At Def Jam
Hav, DJ Prince A.D. from Queensbridge, and I were scheduled to meet Russell Simmons at his Manhattan condo around the block from Def Jam. I always kept my gun on me, but I didn’t want to disrespect Russell by bringing that type of energy into his home, so this kid Perry at Def Jam let me leave it in his office drawer until we were done.
Perry walked us to Russell’s apartment on Broadway near NYU. Russell’s assistant let us in. There was a big-##% Jacuzzi tub in the floor in the room next to the living room. The white carpet had just been shampooed and we had to take our shoes off and step on the soapy stinking carpet in wet socks. Oh, so this is what it’s like to have a million dollars and your own record label. Nervous and excited, we waited around for fifteen minutes until the assistant said Russell wasn’t going to be able to make it. He sent us back to the office to meet with Lyor Cohen instead.
Lyor listened to our best songs and told us that we cursed too much and our music was too violent. He said Def Jam couldn’t do anything with us because we were too young to speak like that. They would get in trouble with the law for putting our album out.
What?! We couldn’t believe it. We were pissed off but we weren’t that mad because we knew we had some hot *%#*. If they didn’t sign us it was their loss, not ours. Although a month later, they signed this group Onyx from Jamaica, Queens. These %!$$%* were screaming, cussing, and waving TEC-9s in their videos, looking like black skinheads!
As we were leaving Def Jam, I went to get my gun from Perry’s office. We walked in behind him and Perry passed it to Hav instead of me. I asked him for some De La Soul and Slick Rick posters I’d seen lying around, and he went to get them. Hav pointed the gun at me, playing around. “Don’t play with me like that,” I told him.
When Perry came back with the posters, Hav pointed the gun at him. “%*!+@, give me them posters,” Hav said, joking. The gun went off, hitting Perry in the stomach, his shirt catching fire where the bullet hit as he fell onto me. Hav dropped the gun and ran out of the building with Prince A.D. right behind him. Yo, this %*!+@ just shot this muthafucker! I looked down at Perry as he tried to grab on to my shoulder. “Yo, get off me!” I yanked my arm away from him. I’m going with my people. I ran downstairs to catch up with Hav and A.D.
The most popular duo in rap, Run-D.M.C, was walking into the building as Hav, Prince A.D., and I came running out. My boys knocked them to the ground as they busted out of the front door and ran up Houston toward Broadway to the train station. I wasn’t far behind.
“Stop those kids!” somebody screamed behind us. When I looked back, it was Ali Shaheed Muhammad, the DJ from A Tribe Called Quest. Hav stopped running and started screaming at me. “I didn’t mean it, son! I didn’t mean to shoot him! You gotta hide me, son, take me to Florida!” I saw some detectives riding past us in an unmarked car and told Hav to be quiet. The three D’s got out of the car and came over to us.
“Is there a problem?” one officer asked. Hav started screaming again. “I didn’t mean to shoot him, it was an accident!” The D pulled out cuffs and put them on Havoc. Ali Shaheed Muhammad caught up with us and told the cops what happened. I told them it was an accident, we thought it was a lighter, we found it outside, we didn’t know it was a real gun. They took Hav to the bookings. Prince A.D. and I went home.
The next morning when Moms woke me up for school, she had the radio on Kiss FM as usual. While we were both getting dressed, they announced that some rappers got into an argument with Lyor Cohen at Def Jam over contracts and one of the rappers, Kejuan Muchita, shot an A&R because they didn’t sign us. What?!
Hav, DJ Prince A.D. from Queensbridge, and I were scheduled to meet Russell Simmons at his Manhattan condo around the block from Def Jam. I always kept my gun on me, but I didn’t want to disrespect Russell by bringing that type of energy into his home, so this kid Perry at Def Jam let me leave it in his office drawer until we were done.
Perry walked us to Russell’s apartment on Broadway near NYU. Russell’s assistant let us in. There was a big-##% Jacuzzi tub in the floor in the room next to the living room. The white carpet had just been shampooed and we had to take our shoes off and step on the soapy stinking carpet in wet socks. Oh, so this is what it’s like to have a million dollars and your own record label. Nervous and excited, we waited around for fifteen minutes until the assistant said Russell wasn’t going to be able to make it. He sent us back to the office to meet with Lyor Cohen instead.
Lyor listened to our best songs and told us that we cursed too much and our music was too violent. He said Def Jam couldn’t do anything with us because we were too young to speak like that. They would get in trouble with the law for putting our album out.
What?! We couldn’t believe it. We were pissed off but we weren’t that mad because we knew we had some hot *%#*. If they didn’t sign us it was their loss, not ours. Although a month later, they signed this group Onyx from Jamaica, Queens. These %!$$%* were screaming, cussing, and waving TEC-9s in their videos, looking like black skinheads!
As we were leaving Def Jam, I went to get my gun from Perry’s office. We walked in behind him and Perry passed it to Hav instead of me. I asked him for some De La Soul and Slick Rick posters I’d seen lying around, and he went to get them. Hav pointed the gun at me, playing around. “Don’t play with me like that,” I told him.
When Perry came back with the posters, Hav pointed the gun at him. “%*!+@, give me them posters,” Hav said, joking. The gun went off, hitting Perry in the stomach, his shirt catching fire where the bullet hit as he fell onto me. Hav dropped the gun and ran out of the building with Prince A.D. right behind him. Yo, this %*!+@ just shot this muthafucker! I looked down at Perry as he tried to grab on to my shoulder. “Yo, get off me!” I yanked my arm away from him. I’m going with my people. I ran downstairs to catch up with Hav and A.D.
The most popular duo in rap, Run-D.M.C, was walking into the building as Hav, Prince A.D., and I came running out. My boys knocked them to the ground as they busted out of the front door and ran up Houston toward Broadway to the train station. I wasn’t far behind.
“Stop those kids!” somebody screamed behind us. When I looked back, it was Ali Shaheed Muhammad, the DJ from A Tribe Called Quest. Hav stopped running and started screaming at me. “I didn’t mean it, son! I didn’t mean to shoot him! You gotta hide me, son, take me to Florida!” I saw some detectives riding past us in an unmarked car and told Hav to be quiet. The three D’s got out of the car and came over to us.
“Is there a problem?” one officer asked. Hav started screaming again. “I didn’t mean to shoot him, it was an accident!” The D pulled out cuffs and put them on Havoc. Ali Shaheed Muhammad caught up with us and told the cops what happened. I told them it was an accident, we thought it was a lighter, we found it outside, we didn’t know it was a real gun. They took Hav to the bookings. Prince A.D. and I went home.
The next morning when Moms woke me up for school, she had the radio on Kiss FM as usual. While we were both getting dressed, they announced that some rappers got into an argument with Lyor Cohen at Def Jam over contracts and one of the rappers, Kejuan Muchita, shot an A&R because they didn’t sign us. What?!
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thesynthesis
New member
P better be careful cuz after this shit nobody finna trust him with any info
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blackstarr
New member
On Noreaga catchin a beatdown
One night that winter, Hav and I were on the block with Karate Joe, Gotti, Nitty, Trip, this kid we called Bill Cosby, and this other kid Johnny. Havoc started flipping out, saying he heard Tragedy was %+$%!$+ with his lady Shawna on the low and he wanted to step to Tragedy about it. We all walked over to Capone’s building next door where Tragedy, Capone, and N.O.R.E. hung out. Hav knocked on Capone’s door and asked him to tell Tragedy to come outside. Tragedy came out with N.O.R.E. and Capone.
“What’s up, man, you %+$%!$+ with Shawna?” Hav asked. Tragedy said it wasn’t true but Hav wasn’t trying to hear it.
“I know you %+$%!$+ with Shawna, stop lying!” Hav punched Tragedy in the face and knocked him down. While he was getting back up, Karate Joe warned Tragedy, “You better not hit him back!” Hav punched Tragedy and knocked him down again while we surrounded them, watching. N.O.R.E. was getting nervous seeing the %*!+@ who he thought had strength in QB getting his ##% beat—he was worried he was gonna be next. So he reached for his gun, pulled it out, and shot one bullet at the ground in between all of us. The bullet bounced off the cement and hit my man Johnny in the shinbone. N.O.R.E. ran for his life out of the projects. Tragedy and Capone ran into the building and someone drove Johnny to the hospital right away. The next day, Johnny came through the block on crutches with a cast on his leg. N.O.R.E. could never show his face in Queensbridge again.
About a month passed and some unknowing fool set up a show for Mobb Deep and Capone-N-Noreaga at a little club called Krystals on Merrick Boulevard in Jamaica, Queens, across the street from the bus terminal and up the block from my grandmother’s dance school. The only reason we went was so we could catch N.O.R.E. and torture him for what he did to Johnny.
The whole crew pulled up and parked our trucks in the bus terminal facing the club to get a good look at everybody out front. Tragedy and Capone were standing at the front door facing us. Nitty spotted N.O.R.E. walking over to them. “Anyone got a razor?” Nitty asked Twin and me, but we didn’t. Nitty, Twin, and Money No approached N.O.R.E. “Come over here so we can talk,” Nitty told him, putting his arm around N.O.R.E.’s neck and walking him into the street. After a few steps, Nitty started punching N.O.R.E. in the face while he had him in a headlock. N.O.R.E. dropped to the ground and the crew jumped him. Gotti, Havoc, and I stood by the trucks and watched them beat the clothes off that boy. Man, I never saw somebody get jumped so bad!
They were like dogs fighting over a piece of meat. Karate Joe grabbed N.O.R.E. by what was left of his shirt and dragged him to the corner so he could have him all to himself. He focused strictly on his rib cage, destroying N.O.R.E.’s ribs with punch after punch. Nitty snatched N.O.R.E.’s Jesus piece from the ground and we hopped back in our trucks. While N.O.R.E. was getting jumped, his boys Tragedy and Capone didn’t move. They just stood in front of the club watching the whole thing.
Some of N.O.R.E.’s people carried him to a parking lot around the corner. I already knew what was going to happen next. “You know they’re about to come back from the parking lot with guns,” I told Twin Gambino. We sat and waited. I popped the hood and told Twin Gambino to get my gun out. I’d just bought an automatic .22 with a twelve-shot clip, but like an +*!*%@% I’d never tested it out. After a few minutes, just as I predicted, a few of N.O.R.E.’s people came dragging him from the parking lot with a TEC-9. I was sitting in the driver’s seat; Gambino was outside, standing at my door. We had the drop on them, meaning we could move on them before they saw it coming. “Start shooting,” I told Twin calmly, but the gun didn’t fire. The piece of *%#* was broken! N.O.R.E.’s people started unloading their gun on us. As their bullets started to explode, Gambino got frustrated with my broken gun and threw it at them. Ha! “Shoot him!” N.O.R.E. pointed at Nitty, who was in between my truck and Havoc’s truck. “Right there!” Whoever had the gun shot Nitty in his back as he was trying to jump into my back seat. Plus the shooter dumped the entire forty-two-shot clip at us and not one of the shots hit our two trucks. I was shocked. The only target they hit was the person they were after.
One night that winter, Hav and I were on the block with Karate Joe, Gotti, Nitty, Trip, this kid we called Bill Cosby, and this other kid Johnny. Havoc started flipping out, saying he heard Tragedy was %+$%!$+ with his lady Shawna on the low and he wanted to step to Tragedy about it. We all walked over to Capone’s building next door where Tragedy, Capone, and N.O.R.E. hung out. Hav knocked on Capone’s door and asked him to tell Tragedy to come outside. Tragedy came out with N.O.R.E. and Capone.
“What’s up, man, you %+$%!$+ with Shawna?” Hav asked. Tragedy said it wasn’t true but Hav wasn’t trying to hear it.
“I know you %+$%!$+ with Shawna, stop lying!” Hav punched Tragedy in the face and knocked him down. While he was getting back up, Karate Joe warned Tragedy, “You better not hit him back!” Hav punched Tragedy and knocked him down again while we surrounded them, watching. N.O.R.E. was getting nervous seeing the %*!+@ who he thought had strength in QB getting his ##% beat—he was worried he was gonna be next. So he reached for his gun, pulled it out, and shot one bullet at the ground in between all of us. The bullet bounced off the cement and hit my man Johnny in the shinbone. N.O.R.E. ran for his life out of the projects. Tragedy and Capone ran into the building and someone drove Johnny to the hospital right away. The next day, Johnny came through the block on crutches with a cast on his leg. N.O.R.E. could never show his face in Queensbridge again.
About a month passed and some unknowing fool set up a show for Mobb Deep and Capone-N-Noreaga at a little club called Krystals on Merrick Boulevard in Jamaica, Queens, across the street from the bus terminal and up the block from my grandmother’s dance school. The only reason we went was so we could catch N.O.R.E. and torture him for what he did to Johnny.
The whole crew pulled up and parked our trucks in the bus terminal facing the club to get a good look at everybody out front. Tragedy and Capone were standing at the front door facing us. Nitty spotted N.O.R.E. walking over to them. “Anyone got a razor?” Nitty asked Twin and me, but we didn’t. Nitty, Twin, and Money No approached N.O.R.E. “Come over here so we can talk,” Nitty told him, putting his arm around N.O.R.E.’s neck and walking him into the street. After a few steps, Nitty started punching N.O.R.E. in the face while he had him in a headlock. N.O.R.E. dropped to the ground and the crew jumped him. Gotti, Havoc, and I stood by the trucks and watched them beat the clothes off that boy. Man, I never saw somebody get jumped so bad!
They were like dogs fighting over a piece of meat. Karate Joe grabbed N.O.R.E. by what was left of his shirt and dragged him to the corner so he could have him all to himself. He focused strictly on his rib cage, destroying N.O.R.E.’s ribs with punch after punch. Nitty snatched N.O.R.E.’s Jesus piece from the ground and we hopped back in our trucks. While N.O.R.E. was getting jumped, his boys Tragedy and Capone didn’t move. They just stood in front of the club watching the whole thing.
Some of N.O.R.E.’s people carried him to a parking lot around the corner. I already knew what was going to happen next. “You know they’re about to come back from the parking lot with guns,” I told Twin Gambino. We sat and waited. I popped the hood and told Twin Gambino to get my gun out. I’d just bought an automatic .22 with a twelve-shot clip, but like an +*!*%@% I’d never tested it out. After a few minutes, just as I predicted, a few of N.O.R.E.’s people came dragging him from the parking lot with a TEC-9. I was sitting in the driver’s seat; Gambino was outside, standing at my door. We had the drop on them, meaning we could move on them before they saw it coming. “Start shooting,” I told Twin calmly, but the gun didn’t fire. The piece of *%#* was broken! N.O.R.E.’s people started unloading their gun on us. As their bullets started to explode, Gambino got frustrated with my broken gun and threw it at them. Ha! “Shoot him!” N.O.R.E. pointed at Nitty, who was in between my truck and Havoc’s truck. “Right there!” Whoever had the gun shot Nitty in his back as he was trying to jump into my back seat. Plus the shooter dumped the entire forty-two-shot clip at us and not one of the shots hit our two trucks. I was shocked. The only target they hit was the person they were after.
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thesynthesis
New member
Havoc turned into a hoe lmao
nigga obviously never held or fired a gun before that incident, otherwise he wudnt have been playing with it like a kid
nigga obviously never held or fired a gun before that incident, otherwise he wudnt have been playing with it like a kid
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blackstarr
New member
On the time he almost (LOL as usual) hooked up with Mary j Blige
Havoc and I got a call that month from Charlene Thomas, who worked in the product-management department at Loud Records. Mary J. Blige had contacted Charlene requesting that Mobb Deep be featured on one of her new songs, “Deep Inside.” At the recording session in Manhattan, Mary was sitting in a lounge chair with her legs hanging over the armrest, lighting a slender cigar, wearing big sunglasses. She looked good, like a female pimp. She hopped out of the chair and greeted us with hugs and kisses. The beat sounded hot, so I grabbed a seat, a pen and pad, and Mary told the engineer to play the song so we could hear her lyrics. I finished my verse in about twenty minutes. Havoc laid his next and we were done real fast.
A month or two later, Charlene from Loud called again. “What’s up, today is Mary J.’s birthday and she wants to take you guys out to dinner with her,” Charlene said. “Just you and Havoc. She’s sending a car to pick you up around six p.m., okay?” Hell yeah it was okay! I got fresh, met up with Hav, and we hopped in the S500 Benz that she sent. We stopped to buy Mary birthday flowers before the car dropped us off in front of an exclusive Chinese restaurant in Midtown Manhattan. We figured it would be a dinner party with a bunch of her friends and family, but when we walked inside the spot, we saw Mary and one of her girlfriends seated at a table for four.
We gave Mary her flowers, said happy birthday, and sat down.
“Where’s everybody at?” I asked.
“It’s just us,” Mary said. “I wanted to take ya’ll out to eat and thank you guys for working with me. You know Mobb Deep is my favorite rap group.” Havoc sat next to Mary’s friend, a good-looking light-skinned female, and I sat next to Mary. Mary asked me what kind of drinks I liked. I told her I was drinking whatever she was drinking. “You ever had a cosmo?” she asked.
“A what?”
“A cosmo,” she repeated. “It’s more of a ladies’ drink, but it’s good. Try one with me.”
“A’ight, cool,” I said. Mary ordered a round of cosmos, pink and chilled in large martini glasses. Mary ordered another round. The first one gave me a crazy buzz because I hadn’t been drinking, but how could I refuse drinks with Mary J. Blige on her birthday? I ain’t drinking no more after tonight, I promised myself. This is a special occasion. The next round of cosmos came out with our main course. Mary was feeling the drinks and started getting comfortable, asking me questions.
“How old are you, P?”
“Twenty-four.”
“What’s your sign?”
“Scorpio. November second.”
“You got a lady?” she asked. “You married?” Mary was flirting and giving me all kinds of signs, but I didn’t realize it until I looked in her eyes and saw she was dead serious. I got real shy and nervous, stuck like a deer in headlights. Man, this was Mary J. Blige! My mouth wanted to say no, but my brain forced my mouth to give an honest answer.
“Yeah,” I said.
“How long have you been together?” she asked.
“For about five years now.”
“That’s good, that’s what I’m looking for in my life,” Mary said. “I need somebody to be serious with.” Mary was cool as hell, beautiful, and very down-to-earth. I felt like a fool for not pursuing her but I was really in love with my woman. Havoc hooked up with Mary’s girlfriend that night and I went home to KiKi.
Havoc and I got a call that month from Charlene Thomas, who worked in the product-management department at Loud Records. Mary J. Blige had contacted Charlene requesting that Mobb Deep be featured on one of her new songs, “Deep Inside.” At the recording session in Manhattan, Mary was sitting in a lounge chair with her legs hanging over the armrest, lighting a slender cigar, wearing big sunglasses. She looked good, like a female pimp. She hopped out of the chair and greeted us with hugs and kisses. The beat sounded hot, so I grabbed a seat, a pen and pad, and Mary told the engineer to play the song so we could hear her lyrics. I finished my verse in about twenty minutes. Havoc laid his next and we were done real fast.
A month or two later, Charlene from Loud called again. “What’s up, today is Mary J.’s birthday and she wants to take you guys out to dinner with her,” Charlene said. “Just you and Havoc. She’s sending a car to pick you up around six p.m., okay?” Hell yeah it was okay! I got fresh, met up with Hav, and we hopped in the S500 Benz that she sent. We stopped to buy Mary birthday flowers before the car dropped us off in front of an exclusive Chinese restaurant in Midtown Manhattan. We figured it would be a dinner party with a bunch of her friends and family, but when we walked inside the spot, we saw Mary and one of her girlfriends seated at a table for four.
We gave Mary her flowers, said happy birthday, and sat down.
“Where’s everybody at?” I asked.
“It’s just us,” Mary said. “I wanted to take ya’ll out to eat and thank you guys for working with me. You know Mobb Deep is my favorite rap group.” Havoc sat next to Mary’s friend, a good-looking light-skinned female, and I sat next to Mary. Mary asked me what kind of drinks I liked. I told her I was drinking whatever she was drinking. “You ever had a cosmo?” she asked.
“A what?”
“A cosmo,” she repeated. “It’s more of a ladies’ drink, but it’s good. Try one with me.”
“A’ight, cool,” I said. Mary ordered a round of cosmos, pink and chilled in large martini glasses. Mary ordered another round. The first one gave me a crazy buzz because I hadn’t been drinking, but how could I refuse drinks with Mary J. Blige on her birthday? I ain’t drinking no more after tonight, I promised myself. This is a special occasion. The next round of cosmos came out with our main course. Mary was feeling the drinks and started getting comfortable, asking me questions.
“How old are you, P?”
“Twenty-four.”
“What’s your sign?”
“Scorpio. November second.”
“You got a lady?” she asked. “You married?” Mary was flirting and giving me all kinds of signs, but I didn’t realize it until I looked in her eyes and saw she was dead serious. I got real shy and nervous, stuck like a deer in headlights. Man, this was Mary J. Blige! My mouth wanted to say no, but my brain forced my mouth to give an honest answer.
“Yeah,” I said.
“How long have you been together?” she asked.
“For about five years now.”
“That’s good, that’s what I’m looking for in my life,” Mary said. “I need somebody to be serious with.” Mary was cool as hell, beautiful, and very down-to-earth. I felt like a fool for not pursuing her but I was really in love with my woman. Havoc hooked up with Mary’s girlfriend that night and I went home to KiKi.
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thesynthesis
New member
dead@ almost......
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blackstarr
New member
On JayZ
After an H.N.I.C. promo tour throughout the Tri-State Area and down the East Coast, in October 2001 I took a bunch of my boys to Puffy’s restaurant Justin’s on Twenty-first Street in Manhattan, down the block from Soundtrack Studios. Drinking champagne while checking out the scene, the rapper Queen Pen spotted me and asked me to dance. More the type to lurk in the cut watching my surrounding, I wasn’t big on dancing, but for Queen Pen I mad an exception. While we were grindin’ on each other, she stated sucking and tongue-kissing my ear. I was a bit shocked. We’d done a song together a year or two earlier and it was strictly professional. After she molested my ear, the DJ made an announcement. “Big shout out to Jay-Z and Jermaine Dupri up in the spot. I see ya’ll!”
I walked over to my people. “Where’s Jay-Z?” I asked, surveying the shadows of Justin’s. “I don’t see him.” So we lined the front door of Justin’s on both sides. We weren’t going to let Jay-Z leave without dealing with us first. “P, we’re gonna beat the lips off Jay’s face soon as we see him,” Godfather, Nitty, and Nitty’s cousin Kiko all assured me. Kiko had a gun and he wanted to shoot Jay.
“No! It’s not that serious,” I said. “We’re just gonna beat him up. Don’t pull that gun out.” Through the crowd, I saw Jay and Jermaine walking with three bodyguards towards us. Jermaine Dupri was aware of my beef with and visibily shook, started speed walking with his bodyguard when he saw me. He quickly hightailed it out the door. Jay-Z spotted us lined up against the door waiting for him. Then from about two yards away, he extended his hand to shake mine.
“It ain’t no beef,” Jay said. “It’s just music, man. No drama.”
“Oh yeah?” I said, shaking his hand.
“I just wish you would’ve spoken to me before you said those things about me in The Source,” he said. “But it ain’t no beef, all right?”
“Yeah, okay cool,” I said, and let him walk out of the club. Keep in mind that I let him walk out. Queen Pen is my witness. I could have changed Jay’s future that night, but I chose not to. Jay put up the white flag and his cop-out made me instantly realize that he wasn’t a threat. He’s just a big ol’ stuffed animal, a camel to be exact. I got serious beef with real gangsters. Jay’s just a waste of time.
After an H.N.I.C. promo tour throughout the Tri-State Area and down the East Coast, in October 2001 I took a bunch of my boys to Puffy’s restaurant Justin’s on Twenty-first Street in Manhattan, down the block from Soundtrack Studios. Drinking champagne while checking out the scene, the rapper Queen Pen spotted me and asked me to dance. More the type to lurk in the cut watching my surrounding, I wasn’t big on dancing, but for Queen Pen I mad an exception. While we were grindin’ on each other, she stated sucking and tongue-kissing my ear. I was a bit shocked. We’d done a song together a year or two earlier and it was strictly professional. After she molested my ear, the DJ made an announcement. “Big shout out to Jay-Z and Jermaine Dupri up in the spot. I see ya’ll!”
I walked over to my people. “Where’s Jay-Z?” I asked, surveying the shadows of Justin’s. “I don’t see him.” So we lined the front door of Justin’s on both sides. We weren’t going to let Jay-Z leave without dealing with us first. “P, we’re gonna beat the lips off Jay’s face soon as we see him,” Godfather, Nitty, and Nitty’s cousin Kiko all assured me. Kiko had a gun and he wanted to shoot Jay.
“No! It’s not that serious,” I said. “We’re just gonna beat him up. Don’t pull that gun out.” Through the crowd, I saw Jay and Jermaine walking with three bodyguards towards us. Jermaine Dupri was aware of my beef with and visibily shook, started speed walking with his bodyguard when he saw me. He quickly hightailed it out the door. Jay-Z spotted us lined up against the door waiting for him. Then from about two yards away, he extended his hand to shake mine.
“It ain’t no beef,” Jay said. “It’s just music, man. No drama.”
“Oh yeah?” I said, shaking his hand.
“I just wish you would’ve spoken to me before you said those things about me in The Source,” he said. “But it ain’t no beef, all right?”
“Yeah, okay cool,” I said, and let him walk out of the club. Keep in mind that I let him walk out. Queen Pen is my witness. I could have changed Jay’s future that night, but I chose not to. Jay put up the white flag and his cop-out made me instantly realize that he wasn’t a threat. He’s just a big ol’ stuffed animal, a camel to be exact. I got serious beef with real gangsters. Jay’s just a waste of time.
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blackstarr;2470980 said:On Noreaga catchin a beatdown
One night that winter, Hav and I were on the block with Karate Joe, Gotti, Nitty, Trip, this kid we called Bill Cosby, and this other kid Johnny. Havoc started flipping out, saying he heard Tragedy was %+$%!$+ with his lady Shawna on the low and he wanted to step to Tragedy about it. We all walked over to Capone’s building next door where Tragedy, Capone, and N.O.R.E. hung out. Hav knocked on Capone’s door and asked him to tell Tragedy to come outside. Tragedy came out with N.O.R.E. and Capone.
“What’s up, man, you %+$%!$+ with Shawna?” Hav asked. Tragedy said it wasn’t true but Hav wasn’t trying to hear it.
“I know you %+$%!$+ with Shawna, stop lying!” Hav punched Tragedy in the face and knocked him down. While he was getting back up, Karate Joe warned Tragedy, “You better not hit him back!” Hav punched Tragedy and knocked him down again while we surrounded them, watching. N.O.R.E. was getting nervous seeing the %*!+@ who he thought had strength in QB getting his ##% beat—he was worried he was gonna be next. So he reached for his gun, pulled it out, and shot one bullet at the ground in between all of us. The bullet bounced off the cement and hit my man Johnny in the shinbone. N.O.R.E. ran for his life out of the projects. Tragedy and Capone ran into the building and someone drove Johnny to the hospital right away. The next day, Johnny came through the block on crutches with a cast on his leg. N.O.R.E. could never show his face in Queensbridge again.
About a month passed and some unknowing fool set up a show for Mobb Deep and Capone-N-Noreaga at a little club called Krystals on Merrick Boulevard in Jamaica, Queens, across the street from the bus terminal and up the block from my grandmother’s dance school. The only reason we went was so we could catch N.O.R.E. and torture him for what he did to Johnny.
The whole crew pulled up and parked our trucks in the bus terminal facing the club to get a good look at everybody out front. Tragedy and Capone were standing at the front door facing us. Nitty spotted N.O.R.E. walking over to them. “Anyone got a razor?” Nitty asked Twin and me, but we didn’t. Nitty, Twin, and Money No approached N.O.R.E. “Come over here so we can talk,” Nitty told him, putting his arm around N.O.R.E.’s neck and walking him into the street. After a few steps, Nitty started punching N.O.R.E. in the face while he had him in a headlock. N.O.R.E. dropped to the ground and the crew jumped him. Gotti, Havoc, and I stood by the trucks and watched them beat the clothes off that boy. Man, I never saw somebody get jumped so bad!
They were like dogs fighting over a piece of meat. Karate Joe grabbed N.O.R.E. by what was left of his shirt and dragged him to the corner so he could have him all to himself. He focused strictly on his rib cage, destroying N.O.R.E.’s ribs with punch after punch. Nitty snatched N.O.R.E.’s Jesus piece from the ground and we hopped back in our trucks. While N.O.R.E. was getting jumped, his boys Tragedy and Capone didn’t move. They just stood in front of the club watching the whole thing.
Some of N.O.R.E.’s people carried him to a parking lot around the corner. I already knew what was going to happen next. “You know they’re about to come back from the parking lot with guns,” I told Twin Gambino. We sat and waited. I popped the hood and told Twin Gambino to get my gun out. I’d just bought an automatic .22 with a twelve-shot clip, but like an +*!*%@% I’d never tested it out. After a few minutes, just as I predicted, a few of N.O.R.E.’s people came dragging him from the parking lot with a TEC-9. I was sitting in the driver’s seat; Gambino was outside, standing at my door. We had the drop on them, meaning we could move on them before they saw it coming. “Start shooting,” I told Twin calmly, but the gun didn’t fire. The piece of *%#* was broken! N.O.R.E.’s people started unloading their gun on us. As their bullets started to explode, Gambino got frustrated with my broken gun and threw it at them. Ha! “Shoot him!” N.O.R.E. pointed at Nitty, who was in between my truck and Havoc’s truck. “Right there!” Whoever had the gun shot Nitty in his back as he was trying to jump into my back seat. Plus the shooter dumped the entire forty-two-shot clip at us and not one of the shots hit our two trucks. I was shocked. The only target they hit was the person they were after.
Like Vandakken said this nigga whole life is full of almost situations. If thats the criteria for writing a book then hell i may as well write one and talk about how i almost fucked Beyonce and how i was almost as rich as Bill Gates or how i almost found Bin Laden.
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soul rattler
New member
blackstarr;2471007 said:On JayZ
“Yeah, okay cool,” I said, and let him walk out of the club. Keep in mind that I let him walk out. Queen Pen is my witness. I could have changed Jay’s future that night, but I chose not to. Jay put up the white flag and his cop-out made me instantly realize that he wasn’t a threat. He’s just a big ol’ stuffed animal, a camel to be exact. I got serious beef with real gangsters. Jay’s just a waste of time.
lmao @ this nigga
I've been missing out on some serious hilarity in this thread.
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thesynthesis
New member
dead@ the jay story though
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Guest
babel;2456040 said:Man, what the fuck Lindsay Lohan know about Prodigy or Mobb Deep. Them white bitches don't get down with his low budget midget ass.
50 was saying lindsay was feeling prodigy back in like 05 ....
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thesynthesis
New member
nigga said JD was shook
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thecomebacklegend;2469667 said:smh at niggas debating with a nigga who lifetime accomplishments is being a "vet" on a hiphop message board
watch this yall... this nigga is scarred for life. watch how this nigga rides my nutz everytime he sees me post. niggas soul got touched LOL
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foh prodigy is full of shit!!! mary j blige wasnt trying to holla at this dude thats ducktales like a muhphukka. plus jay z was just by his self at puffy's restaurant huh?? yeah right LOL the havoc shooting an a & R story is ducktales too. why wasnt he charged with at least an aggy then???
i should put jay z's take over verse about prodigy in my sig for this nonsense SMH
i should put jay z's take over verse about prodigy in my sig for this nonsense SMH
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Guest
UPTOWN (CONNEXX);2471284 said:foh prodigy is full of shit!!! mary j blige wasnt trying to holla at this dude thats ducktales like a muhphukka. plus jay z was just by his self at puffy's restaurant huh?? yeah right LOL the havoc shooting an a & R story is ducktales too. why wasnt he charged with at least an aggy then???
i should put jay z's take over verse about prodigy in my sig for this nonsense SMH
I thought u was from uptown (harlem) .... where u from fam ?
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redhandedbandit
New member
UPTOWN (CONNEXX);2471284 said:foh prodigy is full of shit!!! mary j blige wasnt trying to holla at this dude thats ducktales like a muhphukka. plus jay z was just by his self at puffy's restaurant huh?? yeah right LOL the havoc shooting an a & R story is ducktales too. why wasnt he charged with at least an aggy then???
i should put jay z's take over verse about prodigy in my sig for this nonsense SMH
u mad.......................
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