Unruly (11 page)

Standing on the side of the highway, X proceeds to stick out his thumb. Immediately, a girl stops. She is so excited that she takes us to her mother's house to brag. Her mama wanted to cook us food.

Gotti had a vision for me, X and Jay-Z to be a supergroup. I went on the road with X. Next, Def Jam sent me to France with Redman, Method Man and Onyx. We were freestyling on the radio and no one spoke English. Those French guys who were at the station were freestyling right along with us. They were dope. We didn't understand what we were saying but their flow was right on point. That experience showed me that we were making art. We could feel it. And they felt us, too.

 

THE OTHER NEW KID,
Shawn Carter from Brooklyn, who called himself Jay-Z, wore a New York Yankees baseball cap on his head. He wore a crisp white T-shirt and a leather jacket and Tims. Plain as he was, he just looked successful. It was hard to explain. His confidence was unforgettable. Damon Dash and Biggs were his partners at the start-up label, Roc-A-Fella Records. Jay-Z was a flashy guy with big ideas and a bigger ego.

Jay-Z thought that the only way to get things done was with dough. He had already had success with his first indie release
, Reasonable Doubt.
Jay-Z was curious about how to get his record played at radio stations across the country. Gotti told him that the best radio guy in the business was Kevin Liles and suggested that he go see him.

“What the fuck is this? Is it Christmas?” Liles asked him.

Jay-Z had admired Def Jam's radio domination. He wanted that for his own label. He thought the loot was going to get him what he wanted. They all laughed. “It doesn't work like that, man,” Liles told him and then he explained how shit did work.

I had written a song for my solo album called “Can I Get A . . .” Jay-Z liked that shit and asked if he could have it. I thought that would be okay as long as he let me be on the track and in the video. In exchange, Jay-Z agreed to do a record on my album, “Kill 'Em All.” “Can I Get A . . .” turned out to be a big hit partly because it went on the
Rush Hour
soundtrack.

 

IRV WAS PRIMING ME
for my own album to drop the following year by having me work with Jay-Z and DMX. It was a win-win. For me, it was my coming-out party, and for Jay-Z, it was a big radio smash.

With the guest appearance on “Can I Get A . . .” I was able to start doing appearances with Jay-Z. The first time we performed that song, it was at the Tunnel. Everything was coming full circle. Not too long ago, I had been at the Tunnel watching Big and Pac. Now, here I was about to perform a record with Jay-Z. I had no idea Jay-Z would do that record that night. He was doing “22 Two's” and then he went to “Can I Get A . . .” He waves at me to come up on the stage. There were so many people between me and the stage. I wasn't sure if I could get to it. Next thing I know, my friend BJ picked me up, and the crowd passed me to the stage like a blunt. When I got on stage, the spotlight I was longing for was finally mine.

The local clubs loved that shit, having two of their own MCs that had a record coming out to perform live.

The club was crowded and the fans gave us mad love. The first time I did a show with Jay-Z was like a blur. Aisha was extremely excited for me. I remember her faith in me clearly. I smoked an extra blunt, drank and got nice. My dream was about to come true. Even though I was on someone else's stage, it felt like my own.

The video shoot for “Can I Get A . . .” was cool. It was in another club in Manhattan and it was packed with everyone dressed up like it was a party even though it was ten in the morning. The video was a collage of images of Jay-Z and Amil and some fly-ass dancers intercut with scenes from
Rush Hour
with Chris Tucker and Jackie Chan. I was sprinkled throughout the video and did a verse. Everything was going great with the video, except I didn't have my own identity. I was seen as “the guy with J.”

“I see you back there doing pushups in the back. What are you like under there?” the director Brett Ratner asked, referring to my six pack.

“I'm all right.”

“Why don't you do a take with no shirt?”

At first I was hesitant, I thought I looked great in my new flashy clothes. But the problem was they didn't give me no presence.

When the video aired, everybody wanted to know who was the rapper at the end of the video. Me. In essence, taking off my shirt was the best thing I could have ever done. That was the night I became Ja Rule, not the guy on J's record. It gave me an identity. After that I don't think I ever put on a shirt again.

The film was directed by Brett Ratner, who was a young Jewish kid who had been doing hip-hop videos until he got his big break directing movies like
Money Talks
with Chris Tucker and then
Rush Hour
. He was another young guy doing his thing, which made me all the more impatient. It was difficult watching other talented people get theirs. I was happy to see them make moves because it meant I was in the right place, associating with the right people. It was challenging being patient.

Luckily, the
Rush Hour
soundtrack was a hit and I was slowly becoming somebody. It was so close I could taste it.

 

I WAS LATER OFFERED A ROLE
in a movie,
Turn It Up,
with Pras from the Fugees. Doing the movie meant a good little paycheck. It was about the drug game and the music game. It wasn't a stretch because I had lived the shady shit that goes down with the music industry and the streets and understood how the two are always connected.

Right before my album dropped in 1999, we were about to go out on the Hard Knock Life Tour. We all felt good about the album, except I didn't have a single that could be played on the radio. A hot single playing on the radio helps to draw attention to albums. One of the producers came to me with a slamming beat. I listened to it for a bit then came up “Holla Holla.” This is where my double flow comes from. It was Jimmy Two Times from
A Bronx Tale
that planted the concept in me. Yeah, yeah . . . I couldn't believe it but I was actually going on tour with the MCs that I'd been admiring for years. The legendary Hard Knock Life Tour in 1999 included DMX, Jay-Z, Redman, Method Man, Beanie Sigel, DJ Clue?, Memphis Bleek and Amil. They even made a documentary about that shit called
Backstage
. This was the first hip-hop tour since Fresh Fest in 1984. It was fifteen years between the two tours. Until Hard Knock, arenas were not willing to pay the high price of insurance to secure hip-hop acts and audience. That's why it was a big deal. We preached to our crowds to keep it clean.

 

THE TOUR WAS UNBELIEVABLE.
I can't even express what it's like to have twenty thousand muthafuckas a night, in fifty cities across the country, come to check us out. I'll always remember the powerful impact it had on me to be standing on a stage looking down at kids of all colors who knew every lyric we spit. It was life-changing for all of us because we were getting the mad
love
we had missed in our hard-knock-life realities. Almost everywhere you look, and everything you read, tells you that Black men ain't nothing. But, when we're on that stage it's not true. When we're on that stage, everybody wants to be us and be with us.

As time went on and I was on stage more and more, the feeling became more and more powerful. It gave me an incredible charge. I felt invincible, loved. I was Superman. I was on top of the world. When I had all of these people I didn't know screaming my name, or whatever I told them to holler, it played with my mind. “Throw your hands up! Say, ‘Yeah, yeah!'” This is how the industry creates its egomaniacs. It's how Kanye West can say that he's God. I get it. I understand the feeling. But people are not comfortable with a Black man calling himself God. But, we're taught in the Bible that we're made in His image. And how we should live our lives in accordance with God's words. So, what's wrong with Kanye saying that. Aren't we all God's children. Our gifts are a blessing, but it's up to us to use them productively, and not take them for granted or even abuse them.

Being onstage made me want to live, too. Most Black men think that we're going to die young, because that's what we see around us—a lot of unnecessary killing. Performing affirmed my life. It gave me more of a reason to want to live.

After coming off the Hard Knock Life Tour, it was time to shoot my second single, “Murda 4 Life.” We shot it on Jamaica Avenue. The whole hood came out to support. The video was originally suppose to feature Memphis Bleek, but for some reason he wasn't cleared to do the video. Which never made sense to me considering we were all under the same umbrella. He was on Roc-A-Fella and I was on Murder Inc. Both were subsidiaries of Def Jam. We ended up putting Black Child and Cadillac Tah on the record. During the shooting of the video, 50 showed up. According to him, he came to say “What's up?” to me, and I didn't show him enough love. I gave him a “what up” and kept it moving. I think he was jealous because Black Child was on the record and not him. The hood was showing me love and not him. Shortly after, he recorded a diss record about me, “Murder, I Don't Believe You.” This is how it all started.

“Your man got a song about me. What's up with your man?” I asked Black Child.

“Yeah, I heard about it. I don't fuck with that nigga,” said Black Child. “But, when I see him, I'm going to holla at him.”

The next time Black saw 50 he asked him what's up with the record. 50 said, “Ain't no hard feelings. It's just a record. I'm trying to get me out there.” He was basically copping pleas. I didn't think nothing else about it.

 

*

August 30, 2011

I've been down now going on 4 months, another 16 to go. I'm not gonna lie I hate this shit. I hate being told what to do, when to go to bed, when I can go outside. I feel like I'm 10 years old again, LOL. But I'm in a good headspace, been studying to take my GED. I haven't been to school in like 15 years. You'd be amazed at all the shit you forget in that time, especially math. But I'm getting it done. I'm mad and sad I'm not home wit the family these past few weeks wit all that's been going on, the earthquake, Hurricane Irene. This shit doesn't happen normally on the East Coast. I was worried about Ish and the kids. Thank God we didn't get hit that hard in my area and everyone is safe. The week before my grandmother, Bruce and Dawn came to see me wit Ish and my Mom. I was glad they came. I had a good time talking about old times and the family. I learned a lot about my family and I'm not the first to be in prison, but hopefully I will be the last. My Moms hip was looking real bad on the visit. The doctor said she's gonna need a hip replacement. She's a lil scared. I spoke to her a few days ago and she started crying. I love my Mom and we're really close. She's very sensitive. I told her there's nothing to be scared of and not to worry, she'll be running in no time. LOL. It made her feel better. she said she was also sad that she wouldn't be able to see me for a while. But for me her health is all that matters.

I watched MTV Awards Sunday. It was cool. I think LaLa had the best performance. Music is just not the same without me. LOL. Can't wait to get out and record. Fuck Fame, my last album. I'm gonna make it a double, then I think I should retire. After seeing how everyone was dressed at the awards, I think I'm getting too old for this shit. LOL. HOLLYWOOD HERE I COME! And I'm bringing Britt wit me.

 

*

NINE

What's Beef?

IT WAS 1999, I WAS TWENTY-THREE YEARS OLD AND MY FIRST
joint,
Venni Vetti Vecci,
was out. We were number two on the charts, and I had a huge radio hit, “Holla Holla,” which was blasting out of every car on the streets and keeping the CD on the list. I had just released my second single, “Murda 4 Life.” (
Venni Vetti Vecci
went on to sell 2 million copies
total, but the interesting thing is that the first week it came out, it sold 187,000 copies, and 187 is the LA police code for murder. Me and Irv Gotti thought it was a sign from God that our time had come. It's murder had finally become a reality.)

Hell yeah,
I came, I saw and I conquered
.

Gotti's strategy had always been to share a little of each of his hot rappers on everybody's joints so we would all benefit from the repeat name recognition. At that time, all of Irv's artists had nothing but love and respect for each other. We all came up together. We were all selling albums, doing shows and we were all getting paid. But that didn't seem to be enough.

It only took a year for my man DMX to accuse me of sounding like him. In 2000, he wrote a diss joint called “Do You,” which insinuated that I was copying his style. Truth is, the only similarity between us is that we both had gruff voices—but that was the only similarity. I'm
nothing
like him.

Word of the beef between us spread quickly throughout the hip-hop community, but to be honest, I was too busy working on my second album to care. Making music was my dream and I was in it to win it.

During this period I went through a transformation. People were saying that I acted like Pac and sounded like X. Here is when I realized that I'm me. I'm an artist and had to express myself as an artist, and do me. My whole sound was kind of different. My first album was street because that's all I knew up to that point. But after the first album, I was living success.

When I presented my second album,
Rule 3:36,
to Def Jam, they learned the hard way that I was going to push the envelope.

When I refused to do my second album over, Def Jam pushed back and I pushed even harder. At first they were only going to release the single “Between Me and You” with no video or anything and see how it would move. Me and Gotti wasn't having none of that. We had just sold a gang of records; how could they not give me a proper release? Eventually they caved and gave me the kind of rollout I had earned—video budget, radio spend, street team. It proved my instincts had been right
. Rule 3:36
came out and went triple platinum, 3 million records, sold nearly 300,000 the first week.
You couldn't tell me nothing
.

Ja Rule and Murder Inc. were slaying the radio. Our joints added the instrumentation of R&B and the sensuality of female vocals and put them over dope rap tracks. The combination made every hot joint even hotter.

As Murder Inc. continued to grow, we came to realize that we had crossed an invisible line. By switching up the same ol' formula for hip-hop and adding these other elements, we'd gone outside of the boundary lines. The underground fans didn't like it. The critics criticized. The bloggers blogged. The fighters fought. And rappers wrote diss records about us. They were all trying to hit us where it hurt most—our commitment to the authenticity of the music and our manhood. While that was happening, the larger population was eating us up. Inside the business there was lots of scrutiny, outside, lots of love.

The beef inside the hip-hop community was everywhere. The barbs flew across the radio airwaves while the Internet broke the dam of public opinion. Every day there were hundreds of never-ending anonymous comments that fueled the fires.

 

LIKE I SAID,
me and DMX came up together. When my music started to blow up as large as his, I believe that's the moment that people started getting in X's ear. They were provoking him by saying shit like, “That little homie is trying to steal your shit” or “He's trying to be like you.” Those comments triggered him. Actually, I think it was really Lyor who was provoking us to compete against each other, he'd say to me, “J's in the studio working.” He'd say to X, Ya know Ja's album just went number one.” I don't think he meant any malice; he just wanted us to create new music and bring in more money.

When I look back on it, I realize that I had become a red flag not just for X, but for several others. It's like hustling on a block and here comes a new guy who is coming up after you. He
may
be the guy to kill you or your business.

All of this stuff, the tension between artists, is very personal. We're mostly from the same area. We have similar dreams and similar skill sets. We're competing against each other, while also using the other for inspiration. When it looks like someone may overshadow us, our ego gets in the way and the disrespect begins. We are fighters and survivors. We can't take disrespect. We have zero tolerance.

The next time I see 50 is in Atlanta.

In 2000, I got a call to do a show. The opening act was to be 50 Cent. The promoter who booked us didn't know that 50 had some issues with me. When I pulled up to the hotel, I was surprised to see my man Uncle Chaz. He had started managing 50 Cent. Chaz asked if I'd talk to 50 to squash any beef that was brewing. I agreed to it. A few minutes later 50 pulls up. We get to talking. He's copping more pleas: “It's nothing personal. It's just me trying to get out there. The record's already out there, it's not going anywhere. Nothing we can do about it.” I don't know why, but that set me off. I started screaming on him. Calling him a bitch ass nigga. With every album he tries to beef with someone to get people to start talking about him and to create a buzz for his album. I wish he would stop trying to use gimmicks and concentrate on the music.

Rage started to bubble up in my stomach. Although my intentions were to talk, I couldn't help myself, I just started screaming on him.

50 tried to swing on me, but I dipped, then I hit him with the baby Louisville Slugger. Bam! I dropped the bat. I pulled the shirt over his head. I started catching him, left, right, uppercut. Then O comes and picks up the bat and starts cracking him over the head. Black Child joins in and hits him, too. We were fucking him up and none of his people did anything. The OGs, BJ and Uncle Chaz broke it up.

The funny thing about that Atlanta shit is that when my crew started smashing him, 50's crew ran inside the hotel and got on the elevator. I was still heated. I took the ashtray stand from outside and brought it into the hotel lobby, hoping to crack it over anybody's head that was in my way. As the elevator door closed, I threw the ashtray stand. The staff called the police. My last words to him were, “Nigga you better not show up tonight. Or you will die.”

We had done enough that day. The crew and I bounced and did our show, without an opening act. No one knew who the fuck 50 was at that time, so no one missed him.

By the time I got back to New York, I heard that 50 had woven a ridiculous fictional tale about the Atlanta incident. He deserved another ass whooping just for that.

On March 20, I got a call from a friend who happened to be hanging out at the Hit Factory studio in New York City. “Guess who's in the studio tonight?” she asked. I thanked her for the tip. I knew what I had to do. My man Merc, he had broken his foot. I took his crutch to use as a weapon. I was headed upstairs, because I happened to be at the Hit Factory that night, too. My crew followed me. We paid 50 Cent a visit. He was still talking, rhyming and talking too much shit with his silly mouth. That incident in Atlanta showed me that the beef had just begun. I was getting mad.

Not knowing which studio suite 50 was in, we went from door to door until we found him. I opened the door and 50 was in a small recording studio. He was inches from me. He looked at me like he had seen a ghost.

He said, “Yo, let's talk.”

“You been talking enough.” BAM! I pushed my way into the studio. I hit him with the crutch. We proceeded to whip his ass. I was putting in my work. 50 was crunched in the corner. I slammed the big Tannoy speaker down on him.

While he's getting his ass beat, I heard him say, “Get the gun.”

“Get your gun, nigga,” I replied.

At that moment, Black started poking niggas with a knife, and 50 got stabbed. After blood was shed, we got out of there.

I had had it with 50 Cent. I wanted to hurt his ass. He needed to be silenced. I needed to show him who he was playing with. I felt that I had to defend what I'd worked so hard for, for all those years. I was defending my reputation and my art. I wasn't going to let someone come in and desecrate my music with those ridiculous diss records and stories. I was wearing my emotions on my sleeve. We all were. The rap shit was the first thing I had ever
owned
. It was something that I created and could claim as my own. It meant
everything
to me. I was young and reckless and didn't give a fuck. Every attack felt personal.

When I feel the tightening of my skin and the quickening pace of my heartbeat, it always leads to severe bodily harm for others. When provoked, there is no turning me off. That's what Moms used to say about my father.

In 2000, 50 Cent was still considered an underground artist with his leaked diss joints and unreleased Columbia Records album. He had a deal with Columbia Records but he was dropped before they could put the record out because of all the shit that he started.

In 50's mind the only way to get at me was to make records dissing me. I wasn't really worried about retaliating with diss records. I was making hits, so small-time disses that couldn't be played on the radio were not my concern. While he was dissing me, I was smashing the world with my success.

50 Cent's beef with me was no regular beef. It had been building for years. 50 was a crazed man on a mission to destroy me, specifically, as well as everything I had.

Preme and Chaz had seen enough. They were the OG's in the neighborhood. They called a meeting. Preme was to bring me to the meeting. Chaz was to get 50 there. We all agreed to the meeting, or so I thought. We met at Chaz's Blackhand studio. The three of us were alone, waiting on 50. Chaz was mad that 50 was late. He called 50 several times and 50 didn't pick up. Finally, he picks up.

Chaz says, “Where the fuck you at?” He was angry.

“I'm not coming. It's a setup. Ya'll is going to try and kill me,” 50 said.

Chaz was offended. He let 50 know that if Chaz told him to come somewhere, he was safe. He wasn't going to let anything happen to him. No one was trying to kill him.

“I'm not coming. I don't trust ya'll. I don't feel safe,” said 50.

Chaz hung up the phone.

I laughed, thinking 50's a real clown. “This is a waste of my time.” I was out.

Shortly after that, 50 recorded the infamous record “Ghetto Qu'ran.”

When I heard about “Ghetto Qu'ran,” I couldn't believe the detail with which he snitched on Preme. Even I took that shit personally. The underground started to talk about 50 negatively. Muthafuckas realized that he should be avoided at all costs.

The word was out, 50 Cent is a snitch. “Ghetto Qu'ran” was to have serious repercussions. 50 Cent was in danger. When Preme heard about “Ghetto Qu'ran,” the message was sent to every record producer and DJ throughout America not to play 50's shit and not to even fuck with him. The streets obeyed. At one point, 50 Cent couldn't even find a recording studio anywhere that would let him record in their facility.

During those early days 50 Cent was still trying to get on and having some trouble because of the ban. He was known as being combative and ruthless with nothing to lose. In many of his joints, the message was always the same, “fuck you” or “fuck it.” That was all he ever had to say. He was all about disrespect. That's what I didn't like about him.

50 didn't get the warning. He came after
me
in joint after joint
.
I heard that he was constantly talking smack about us and mentioning me in his songs every chance he got. 50 Cent really overdid it with the diss records.

Two months after the Hit Factory beatdown, 50 Cent went to visit his grandmother and was shot nine times outside of her house. 50 Cent filed a restraining order. He conveniently told the Feds that he feared for his life. While he was in the hospital, the police were working on him to give them information.

The Feds were back on the case, probing him about who he thought shot him. The Feds probably told him that he shouldn't go back on the streets without protection. When they asked him who he thought had shot him, it would make sense that 50 would have said, “Ja Rule, Irv Gotti and Murder Inc.” I'm sure they told him, “We can help you get these guys.”

50's in the hospital following my success. During this time, my album
Rule 3:36
is taking off. I'm touring the world. The sales reached 4 million, worldwide.

50 was healing for close to a year or more with all types of tubes and IVs pumping steroids into his body after taking all of those bullets. 50 Cent ended up being picked up by Eminem and his label, Shady Records, under Dr. Dre. This was significant because 50 Cent was from the East Coast and he was joining a West Coast crew. They made another diss record about me, but since The Inc. was under federal indictment, there was nothing that I could say. His debut album, which he must have been planning in his hospital bed, was called
Get Rich or Die Tryin'
, which is what he set out to do, at all costs.

From my perspective, the Feds worked their magic on 50 during this period. Although he says he “refused to cooperate with them,” he secretly led them through his recordings for the answers they were looking for. It was already in the Feds' mind that Murder Inc. was behind all of this, and that McGriff had indeed funded Murder Inc. in exchange for making it seem that he had a legitimate career in music. I don't know where they would get that from. Preme's involvement in the Murder Inc. film
Crime Partners
was documented evidence that he was becoming legitimate. He had given two million dollars to fund the movie. That's what the money-laundering charges were based on. But Murder Inc. never gave Preme the money. At that point, the Feds believed they had a case that included drug money and an attempted murder, which could finally support a legitimate case with the district attorney.