Queens Reigns Supreme_Fat Cat, 50 Cent, and the Rise of the Hip Hop Hustler by Ethan Brown

Author:Ethan Brown [Brown, Ethan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
Published: 2010-12-08T08:00:00+00:00

There is no disputing the fact that post-Chronic rappers like CMC’s Chris Black and DMX came from rough neighborhoods and occasionally hustled to make ends meet. But instead of rhyming about grindin’ for meager amounts of money, most MCs boasted about moving weight, commanding Fat Cat–sized crews, and gunning down rivals with automatic weapons, thus shrouding their modest pasts in a mythology worthy of the southeast Queens streets of the eighties. Though few hip-hop fans realized it at the time, real street guys were not behind the mike but behind bars, thanks to tough sentencing passed in the wake of the Edward Byrne killing and the Giuliani administration’s quality-of-life policing, which drove hustlers off the streets.

This was apparent to those in the life in the time, perhaps no more so than to Curtis Scoon. “After Giuliani came into office, most street guys were in jail or had moved out of town to get their money,” Scoon explains. With hip-hop’s stock rising and the streets looking more dangerous (and less profitable) than ever, Scoon decided to change his life for good. In 1993, Scoon began throwing after-parties for hip-hop tours and, with the help of Jeff Fludd, he started a record label called Hollis Crew Productions. The company flamed out quickly but the after-party business brought Scoon in close contact with new hip-hop talent as well as the next generation of hip-hop executives.

During the spring of 1994, Scoon rolled the dice on a lavish, expensive after-party in Baltimore for female rappers Salt N Pepa and a then-unknown R&B singer from Chicago named R. Kelly. His copromoter Darren Ebron had thrown some of the wildest, most extravagant parties the city’s hip-hop scene had ever witnessed, and Scoon believed this could be a breakout event for him even though he worried that Ebron often went far over budget. “If Darren threw an indoor beach party it would have a real beach,” Scoon remembers. “He lived for the night. For him, it didn’t matter if any of the parties were profitable.” Scoon was much more business-minded than Ebron, and he expected a return on his investment—which he says was “quite a few thousand dollars”—from the after-party

The event began with some promise: Ebron had secured a much-coveted venue called the Baltimore Grand as well as the talents of hot New York DJ Kid Capri. But well before midnight, things began to unravel. Drug crews from Manhattan and Baltimore descended on the party to collect money they claimed Ebron owed them. Though Scoon was not responsible for the debt, he and a group of his most trusted associates called for a sit-down with the rival hustlers in the Baltimore Grand’s office. “My right-hand man Talib broke the news to them that they weren’t getting a fucking dime,” Scoon explains, “and they got so angry that they didn’t want my money; they just wanted my blood.”

Scoon could have engaged the hustlers in a pitched gun battle but he decided to humiliate his rivals without firing a shot.

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