One_Yaself_Hater

By his own admission rap artist Tyrik “Dirty Rik” Taylor’s decade-long association with his former employer was less than stellar. He was a backup, a benchwarmer. “I sat the pine so long I got splinters in my motherfuckin’ spine still,” he says candidly in last month’s YouTube video, before taking a hit off a curious-looking cigar and gazing into the camera. The droopy-eyed rapper then lays out his beef against Major Figgas—the consortium of rap artists from which he’d recently been exiled—and its boss, self-proclaimed “King of Philly” Gillie Da Kid.

The video, Dirty Rik Adresses Da Beef, is an explanation of the first shot fired in the grimiest rap battle Philadelphia has seen in years—one that involves allegations of child molestation, a barrage of violent threats against family members and tales of a gangsta rapper going gay for pay.

It also involves YouTube, the vehicle of choice for rap beefs in the Internet age. No longer are artists taking the time to write and record raps. Instead they’re talking to cameras and uploading videos.

A few days and a couple thousand viewer hits later, a visibly irritated Gillie responds to Rik. Gillie talks for a second, then instructs the man behind the camera to go in for a tight shot of the 42-inch flatscreen monitor behind him. The frame blurs before returning to a sharp focus that lingers on a single line of a long arrest record. “Indecent assault person less [than] 13 years age.” It’s Rik’s rap sheet.

“The Internet’s a motherfucker!” exclaims Gillie, visibly charged by the prospect of what technology has to offer—especially when it comes to taking down his enemy.

The mood in the room is lighter than you might expect. Gillie, a true showman, hams it up for the camera—eyes wild, hat cocked—joking that Dirty Rik hangs outside elementary schools using Hannah Montana tickets and “Johannas Brothers” posters to entice young female students to talk to him.

After that video, the beef spirals out of control. Gillie stays on the offensive and issues another YouTube salvo. This time, the woman who claims Dirty Rik molested her young daughter stands by his side. Compelling at first glance, Margaret Moran, a white female from Southwest Philadelphia who resembles “Buckwild” from the first season of Flavor of Love, loses credibility by video’s end as she laughs with Gillie about the charges she’s leveling. She’s obviously pleased to be there.

Moran goes by the name “Amirah” on the Internet, whether in the video with Gillie trashing Rik, applying to become a contestant on Flavor of Love or on her MySpace profile. In fact, Moran used MySpace to send Gillie the message about “helping him out any way [she] can” in his beef with Rik, her ex-boyfriend.

She decided to help by talking about Rik’s criminal record in the video, saying he plead guilty to the indecent assault charge against him.

He didn’t. Rik plead no contest only after his lawyer told him it wasn’t an admission of guilt. The plea meant he’d be freed on time served, a plea bargain brought to the table by the district attorney, who saw the case falling apart due to inconsistencies in the testimony of the alleged victim.

Moran’s story about how she found out about the alleged assault also changed. She mentions in the video she first read about it in her daughter’s journal, but in an interview with the SVU the day the allegations were made, she says her daughter started opening up to her after the two watched an episode of Law & Order that was about the sexual assault of a minor.

Now she and Gillie are making a video together.

Tyrik “Dirty Rik” Taylor is no saint. The charges against him in his court docket are several pages long, and the list is daunting. He’s been charged with credit card fraud, aggravated assault, making terroristic threats, intimidating witnesses, retaliating against witnesses, carrying firearms without a license, carrying firearms with altered serial numbers, recklessly endangering another person, possessing marijuana and another controlled substance, property theft, identity theft, unlawful use of a computer, forgery and securing executive documents by deception.

But Tyrik Taylor swears he’s no child molester. His record backs him up: “NOT a violent sexual offender,” it reads (caps the courts). He’s not registered as a sex offender.

Rik says the relationship with Moran went sour due to his wandering eye. It got worse when he began using Moran’s mother’s credit cards illegally, a charge for which he plead guilty and served time.

But Gillie didn’t intend to delve into Rik’s lengthy criminal record initially—especially the allegations brought by Moran.

“I would’ve ignored this, but he brought my wife into it,” says Gillie, steaming at the very thought of it. “You don’t talk about my wife or my kids. Once he did that, this stopped being some rapper shit. It became personal. So okay, you wanna get some fame off my name? Well, now you’re famous, boy.”


The current spat with Rik isn’t Gillie’s first trip to the rap-beef rodeo. It’s not even his first with a Philadelphia rapper.

Last year Beanie Sigel took umbrage to Gillie’s chosen nickname: “The King of Philly.” Beanie was a national star on Jay-Z’s Roc-A-Fella Records, and made his debut on that label. Beanie began carping in private about the situation, and that carping eventually made its way to Gillie, who used an appearance on Power 99 FM to speak publicly about it. Beanie called in, mystified, and the two exchanged words. Gillie screamed for close to a solid minute—maxing Power 99’s EQ as he pushed it to red—as Beanie stayed silent, offering a meek, “Are you serious?” every once in a while.

The infamous phone call can now be heard, fittingly enough, on YouTube.


Gillie’s most famous beef, though, is with Lil Wayne—the platinum-selling New Orleans rapper on Cash Money Records. Gillie spent much time in the Cash Money crew, and claims to have ghostwritten many of the songs—and a good portion of Tha Carter—which turned Wayne from a rapper who “wobbledy wobbledied” his way through verses that failed to impress and transformed him into one who’s now mentioned in the same breath as Tupac, Biggie, Jay-Z and Rakim.


This is no kid: Gillie doesn't see his current beef as some "rapper shit."
Wayne, no doubt annoyed by the crowing that he wasn’t responsible for his own success, released several Gillie diss tracks on mixtapes that sold widely, branding Gillie Da Kid as “Willie da Squid,” a hanger-on of the highest order seeking to cash in on the fame his Cash Money mate was gobbling up like Pac-Man pellets. Gillie himself took the beef to wax, unleashing a DJ Drama Gangsta Grillz mixtape intending to, as he told PW in July of 2006, “show the chinks” in his former partner’s armor. “I’ma pull the covers over your head, homie. It’s gonna be vicious.”

And for a while it was. But it was also another thing: creative. Gillie got some run on MTV, and national hip-hop magazines like XXL took notice and gave the idea of Gillie as Ghostwriter some play.

But the songs faded, and so too did the beef. Its purpose, however, was served. Both rappers took to tracks and tried to best the other. People listened and debated heatedly about who got the better end of the bargain.

Gillie’s beef with Beanie was different. No songs were ever created. There was just bickering about titles, a series of angry interviews and some diss videos. It ended with one of Beanie’s associates being killed and one of Gillie’s in prison—perhaps a bad omen for Gillie’s current beef with Rik.

As entertaining as Gillie’s initial video is, the molestation charge leveled against Tyrik Taylor by the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania is deadly serious for Rik.

The comments under the posted videos—both on YouTube and World Star—are violent to the point of being scary, threatening violence against Rik should he be seen in certain neighborhoods.

“FUCK REK,” reads one. “My philly niggas betta ride on this fool, this shit is crazy, this is worse than springer shit. fuck that nigga rek. do that nigga in.”

“I EVA CATCH THAT BOL REK UPTOWN IN PHILLY I’M WASHING HIM UP,” reads another.

It’s the kind of danger that violent-prone Killadelphia doesn’t need.


West Philly rapper Tone Trump can’t walk 15 feet without being greeted with a pound and a bear hug from people hanging out in the neighborhood. After what seems like half an hour, the towering 6-foot-2-inch 25-year-old Muslim rapper makes his way across the street to the Station Diner where he takes a table up front. “It’s sad to me,” Tone says of the current state of rap beef. “The thing about Philadelphia is, it’s the murder capital. It’s a hard place. And a lot of people doing this rap thing are surrounded by dudes that are still in the streets. Kids watch every move we make. Around here, I’m the man to these kids. They don’t see Jay-Z. They don’t see T.I. They see Tone Trump. And sometimes when you got that pressure under you, it’s a lot to handle.”

Trump just signed a development deal with Icon Music Group, and he travels frequently between Philly and Miami. Those trips have given him a perspective he didn’t have before. In Miami he spends time in the $5 million home of Icon CEO Steve Morales, who’s worked with everyone from Christina Aguilera and Jennifer Lopez to Lil Wayne and Fat Joe.

“As far as the Internet beefing, it’s getting way out of hand,” Trump says. “Especially in Philadelphia because it’s so real here. We deal with real shit. A lot of the shit these dudes rap about in Miami, Atlanta or Cali, we’re seeing every day.” Listen to Tone Trump talk about the beef between Gillie and Dirty Rik.

Trump scans his brain for an example, comes back with the recent death of Police Sgt. Timothy Simpson. “How many cities you know where cops actually get killed? Ice-T had a record out 15 years ago called ‘Cop Killer,’ and I can’t remember the last time a cop got killed in L.A. In Philadelphia we can’t go 45 days without a cop being killed,” he says somberly, eyes widening as he recognizes the magnitude of what he’s just said.

“When I’m in Miami I might not see a cop for 10 days,” Trump says as he nods his head toward the corner outside the Station Diner’s window on the corner of 52nd and Market, eighth on the list of PW’s Top 10 Drug Corners (May 2, 2007).

Trump’s new album is called New Blood, and he’s taken a few phone calls from rappers who have been around for a while wondering whether the title is an indirect shot at them, an invitation to get out of the rap game.

“It’s crazy. I’ll say something on mike at a show in Philly and the next day I’ll get phone calls from four or five guys: ‘My boys was at your show last night. They said you dissed me,’” he says disbelievingly. “It’s gotten so bad that once I put a video on YouTube where I gave a look to the camera, and a rapper called me, said he thought I was disrespecting him. That’s how wild this shit has become!”

“In Philly rappers become famous before they get rich. So you might see a guy on the street, everyone knows him, but he’s still living in the same neighborhood. I think a lot of this beef shit is people becoming frustrated with their situation. Lack of success. You think Jay-Z cares what you sayin’ about him? No. Kanye? No.”

Why wouldn’t Gillie, instead of making a response video to Rik and therefore giving him visibility, just ignore it, shake it off? Listen to Gillie talk about his beef with Dirty Rik.

“In Gillie’s defense,” Trump says, “he’s probably ignored the last 20 guys that’s come at him. So for all we know, Rik might be the 21st dude, and Gillie said, ‘I’m going to make an example of this guy. I’m going to whoop his ass so the 22nd dude don’t do this.’”

“Our city is so real and so hard, we’re held to a different accountability. I understand that, but we should just focus on making good music and forget the rest,” Trump says, looking out the window, this time not seeing squad cars, but perhaps palm trees. “But that’s among each other, Philly cats. Don’t nobody anywhere else give a fuck. When I go to Miami, don’t nobody say, ‘Yo, yo, is you real?’ Who gives a fuck? Press play.”

At the Bat Cave in very north Philly Gillie Da Kid looks positively beat. His voice is a tad hoarse, and he seems somewhat exasperated. Several times he utters the phrase, “We talkin’ ’bout Dirty Rik, man,” in a way that’s reminiscent of the famous Allen Iverson “We talkin’ ’bout practice!” press conference years ago. Complete and total disbelief.

“This nigga was nothing to Major Figgas, man,” sneers Gillie, sick at the thought of hearing such heresy. “Dirty Rik wasn’t really ever there. He was a leech. He never really got sanctioned. Like he said himself, ‘Gill never put me in the game.’ Well, that’s because you was Eric Snow,” Gillie says, pulling the NBA journeyman’s name out of thin air to make his own basketball analogy. “If you’re Eric Snow and I’ve got ‘Boobie’ Gibson starting at point, of course you’re going to sit on the fucking bench. He wasn’t as good as the guys playing.”

Dirty Rik is surprisingly upbeat for a man whose life has been threatened by thousands of Internet commenters on YouTube. Inside his video editor’s apartment in the Northeast, his smile can barely be contained. The world is finally saying his name. “These videos have over 700,000 views,” he says.


Hey, Dirty: Rik puffs on his omnipresent cigar.
He isn’t worried about the charges, the hundreds upon hundreds of lewd and homophobic comments made about him or the threats of violence. “I’ve been in and out of jail my whole life,” Rik says, again puffing on a curious-looking cigar. “It’s been a pretty rocky road. I’ve seen some shit. This don’t scare me.”

He maintains that the indecent assault charges are bullshit and refuses to “sweat bullshit.” Listen to Dirty Rik talk about his career, and his beef with Gillie. He reiterates much of what has already been played out all over the Internet in his third video, the latest, and takes the time to read the sentence on his record that Gillie chose to ignore. “NOT a violent sexual offender.” He then lays out his arrest records on a kitchen counter.

Rik knew that Gillie would bring up his criminal record when Rik chose to sit in front of the camera that first time and air his grievances against Gillie in public. “It’s the only dirt someone could have on me, so I knew he’d use it. I knew.”

He knew something else too. His smile widens. “Controversy sells, brah.”


Tyrik “Dirty Rik” Taylor is no saint. The charges against him in his court docket are several pages long, and the list is daunting. He’s been charged with credit card fraud, aggravated assault, making terroristic threats, intimidating witnesses, retaliating against witnesses, carrying firearms without a license, carrying firearms with altered serial numbers, recklessly endangering another person, possessing marijuana and another controlled substance, property theft, identity theft, unlawful use of a computer, forgery and securing executive documents by deception.

But Tyrik Taylor swears he’s no child molester. His record backs him up: “NOT a violent sexual offender,” it reads (caps the courts). He’s not registered as a sex offender.

Rik says the relationship with Moran went sour due to his wandering eye. It got worse when he began using Moran’s mother’s credit cards illegally, a charge for which he plead guilty and served time.

But Gillie didn’t intend to delve into Rik’s lengthy criminal record initially—especially the allegations brought by Moran.

“I would’ve ignored this, but he brought my wife into it,” says Gillie, steaming at the very thought of it. “You don’t talk about my wife or my kids. Once he did that, this stopped being some rapper shit. It became personal. So okay, you wanna get some fame off my name? Well, now you’re famous, boy.”


The current spat with Rik isn’t Gillie’s first trip to the rap-beef rodeo. It’s not even his first with a Philadelphia rapper.

Last year Beanie Sigel took umbrage to Gillie’s chosen nickname: “The King of Philly.” Beanie was a national star on Jay-Z’s Roc-A-Fella Records, and made his debut on that label. Beanie began carping in private about the situation, and that carping eventually made its way to Gillie, who used an appearance on Power 99 FM to speak publicly about it. Beanie called in, mystified, and the two exchanged words. Gillie screamed for close to a solid minute—maxing Power 99’s EQ as he pushed it to red—as Beanie stayed silent, offering a meek, “Are you serious?” every once in a while.

The infamous phone call can now be heard, fittingly enough, on YouTube



Gillie’s most famous beef, though, is with Lil Wayne—the platinum-selling New Orleans rapper on Cash Money Records. Gillie spent much time in the Cash Money crew, and claims to have ghostwritten many of the songs—and a good portion of Tha Carter—which turned Wayne from a rapper who “wobbledy wobbledied” his way through verses that failed to impress and transformed him into one who’s now mentioned in the same breath as Tupac, Biggie, Jay-Z and Rakim.


This is no kid: Gillie doesn't see his current beef as some "rapper shit."
Wayne, no doubt annoyed by the crowing that he wasn’t responsible for his own success, released several Gillie diss tracks on mixtapes that sold widely, branding Gillie Da Kid as “Willie da Squid,” a hanger-on of the highest order seeking to cash in on the fame his Cash Money mate was gobbling up like Pac-Man pellets. Gillie himself took the beef to wax, unleashing a DJ Drama Gangsta Grillz mixtape intending to, as he told PW in July of 2006, “show the chinks” in his former partner’s armor. “I’ma pull the covers over your head, homie. It’s gonna be vicious.”

And for a while it was. But it was also another thing: creative. Gillie got some run on MTV, and national hip-hop magazines like XXL took notice and gave the idea of Gillie as Ghostwriter some play.

But the songs faded, and so too did the beef. Its purpose, however, was served. Both rappers took to tracks and tried to best the other. People listened and debated heatedly about who got the better end of the bargain.

Gillie’s beef with Beanie was different. No songs were ever created. There was just bickering about titles, a series of angry interviews and some diss videos. It ended with one of Beanie’s associates being killed and one of Gillie’s in prison—perhaps a bad omen for Gillie’s current beef with Rik.

As entertaining as Gillie’s initial video is, the molestation charge leveled against Tyrik Taylor by the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania is deadly serious for Rik.

The comments under the posted videos—both on YouTube and World Star—are violent to the point of being scary, threatening violence against Rik should he be seen in certain neighborhoods.

“FUCK REK,” reads one. “My philly niggas betta ride on this fool, this shit is crazy, this is worse than springer shit. fuck that nigga rek. do that nigga in.”

“I EVA CATCH THAT BOL REK UPTOWN IN PHILLY I’M WASHING HIM UP,” reads another.

It’s the kind of danger that violent-prone Killadelphia doesn’t need.




--------------------------------------------------------------------------------



West Philly rapper Tone Trump can’t walk 15 feet without being greeted with a pound and a bear hug from people hanging out in the neighborhood. After what seems like half an hour, the towering 6-foot-2-inch 25-year-old Muslim rapper makes his way across the street to the Station Diner where he takes a table up front. “It’s sad to me,” Tone says of the current state of rap beef. “The thing about Philadelphia is, it’s the murder capital. It’s a hard place. And a lot of people doing this rap thing are surrounded by dudes that are still in the streets. Kids watch every move we make. Around here, I’m the man to these kids. They don’t see Jay-Z. They don’t see T.I. They see Tone Trump. And sometimes when you got that pressure under you, it’s a lot to handle.”

Trump just signed a development deal with Icon Music Group, and he travels frequently between Philly and Miami. Those trips have given him a perspective he didn’t have before. In Miami he spends time in the $5 million home of Icon CEO Steve Morales, who’s worked with everyone from Christina Aguilera and Jennifer Lopez to Lil Wayne and Fat Joe.

“As far as the Internet beefing, it’s getting way out of hand,” Trump says. “Especially in Philadelphia because it’s so real here. We deal with real shit. A lot of the shit these dudes rap about in Miami, Atlanta or Cali, we’re seeing every day.” Listen to Tone Trump talk about the beef between Gillie and Dirty Rik.

Trump scans his brain for an example, comes back with the recent death of Police Sgt. Timothy Simpson. “How many cities you know where cops actually get killed? Ice-T had a record out 15 years ago called ‘Cop Killer,’ and I can’t remember the last time a cop got killed in L.A. In Philadelphia we can’t go 45 days without a cop being killed,” he says somberly, eyes widening as he recognizes the magnitude of what he’s just said.

“When I’m in Miami I might not see a cop for 10 days,” Trump says as he nods his head toward the corner outside the Station Diner’s window on the corner of 52nd and Market, eighth on the list of PW’s Top 10 Drug Corners (May 2, 2007).

Trump’s new album is called New Blood, and he’s taken a few phone calls from rappers who have been around for a while wondering whether the title is an indirect shot at them, an invitation to get out of the rap game.

“It’s crazy. I’ll say something on mike at a show in Philly and the next day I’ll get phone calls from four or five guys: ‘My boys was at your show last night. They said you dissed me,’” he says disbelievingly. “It’s gotten so bad that once I put a video on YouTube where I gave a look to the camera, and a rapper called me, said he thought I was disrespecting him. That’s how wild this shit has become!”

“In Philly rappers become famous before they get rich. So you might see a guy on the street, everyone knows him, but he’s still living in the same neighborhood. I think a lot of this beef shit is people becoming frustrated with their situation. Lack of success. You think Jay-Z cares what you sayin’ about him? No. Kanye? No.”

Why wouldn’t Gillie, instead of making a response video to Rik and therefore giving him visibility, just ignore it, shake it off? Listen to Gillie talk about his beef with Dirty Rik.

“In Gillie’s defense,” Trump says, “he’s probably ignored the last 20 guys that’s come at him. So for all we know, Rik might be the 21st dude, and Gillie said, ‘I’m going to make an example of this guy. I’m going to whoop his ass so the 22nd dude don’t do this.’”

“Our city is so real and so hard, we’re held to a different accountability. I understand that, but we should just focus on making good music and forget the rest,” Trump says, looking out the window, this time not seeing squad cars, but perhaps palm trees. “But that’s among each other, Philly cats. Don’t nobody anywhere else give a fuck. When I go to Miami, don’t nobody say, ‘Yo, yo, is you real?’ Who gives a fuck? Press play.”




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At the Bat Cave in very north Philly Gillie Da Kid looks positively beat. His voice is a tad hoarse, and he seems somewhat exasperated. Several times he utters the phrase, “We talkin’ ’bout Dirty Rik, man,” in a way that’s reminiscent of the famous Allen Iverson “We talkin’ ’bout practice!” press conference years ago. Complete and total disbelief.

“This nigga was nothing to Major Figgas, man,” sneers Gillie, sick at the thought of hearing such heresy. “Dirty Rik wasn’t really ever there. He was a leech. He never really got sanctioned. Like he said himself, ‘Gill never put me in the game.’ Well, that’s because you was Eric Snow,” Gillie says, pulling the NBA journeyman’s name out of thin air to make his own basketball analogy. “If you’re Eric Snow and I’ve got ‘Boobie’ Gibson starting at point, of course you’re going to sit on the fucking bench. He wasn’t as good as the guys playing.”




--------------------------------------------------------------------------------



Dirty Rik is surprisingly upbeat for a man whose life has been threatened by thousands of Internet commenters on YouTube. Inside his video editor’s apartment in the Northeast, his smile can barely be contained. The world is finally saying his name. “These videos have over 700,000 views,” he says.


Hey, Dirty: Rik puffs on his omnipresent cigar.
He isn’t worried about the charges, the hundreds upon hundreds of lewd and homophobic comments made about him or the threats of violence. “I’ve been in and out of jail my whole life,” Rik says, again puffing on a curious-looking cigar. “It’s been a pretty rocky road. I’ve seen some shit. This don’t scare me.”

He maintains that the indecent assault charges are bullshit and refuses to “sweat bullshit.” Listen to Dirty Rik talk about his career, and his beef with Gillie. He reiterates much of what has already been played out all over the Internet in his third video, the latest, and takes the time to read the sentence on his record that Gillie chose to ignore. “NOT a violent sexual offender.” He then lays out his arrest records on a kitchen counter.

Rik knew that Gillie would bring up his criminal record when Rik chose to sit in front of the camera that first time and air his grievances against Gillie in public. “It’s the only dirt someone could have on me, so I knew he’d use it. I knew.”

He knew something else too. His smile widens. “Controversy sells, brah.”


Source:
Tyrik “Dirty Rik” Taylor is no saint. The charges against him in his court docket are several pages long, and the list is daunting. He’s been charged with credit card fraud, aggravated assault, making terroristic threats, intimidating witnesses, retaliating against witnesses, carrying firearms without a license, carrying firearms with altered serial numbers, recklessly endangering another person, possessing marijuana and another controlled substance, property theft, identity theft, unlawful use of a computer, forgery and securing executive documents by deception.

But Tyrik Taylor swears he’s no child molester. His record backs him up: “NOT a violent sexual offender,” it reads (caps the courts). He’s not registered as a sex offender.

Rik says the relationship with Moran went sour due to his wandering eye. It got worse when he began using Moran’s mother’s credit cards illegally, a charge for which he plead guilty and served time.

But Gillie didn’t intend to delve into Rik’s lengthy criminal record initially—especially the allegations brought by Moran.

“I would’ve ignored this, but he brought my wife into it,” says Gillie, steaming at the very thought of it. “You don’t talk about my wife or my kids. Once he did that, this stopped being some rapper shit. It became personal. So okay, you wanna get some fame off my name? Well, now you’re famous, boy.”




--------------------------------------------------------------------------------



The current spat with Rik isn’t Gillie’s first trip to the rap-beef rodeo. It’s not even his first with a Philadelphia rapper.

Last year Beanie Sigel took umbrage to Gillie’s chosen nickname: “The King of Philly.” Beanie was a national star on Jay-Z’s Roc-A-Fella Records, and made his debut on that label. Beanie began carping in private about the situation, and that carping eventually made its way to Gillie, who used an appearance on Power 99 FM to speak publicly about it. Beanie called in, mystified, and the two exchanged words. Gillie screamed for close to a solid minute—maxing Power 99’s EQ as he pushed it to red—as Beanie stayed silent, offering a meek, “Are you serious?” every once in a while.

The infamous phone call can now be heard, fittingly enough, on YouTube.


More Shyt To Read @-------->http://www.philadelphiaweekly.com/ar...88/cover-story

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"REP" or "No PROPS" DONT PUT FOOD ON MY TABLE, FUCK 'EM!!!!!! SO "REP" If U WANT, IDGAF!!!
DiGiJeff (12-17-2008), J-Banks Thanked Post HAPPY BIRTHDAY One_Yaself_Hater !!!-HH411: "instead of hittin 'no props' button i'll just neg ya". - Gods Plan

GodToYouKids22

u noticed u posted the same shit twice in a row.....u had me readin more than i freakin wanted lolol

crzy beef though....but gillie>>>______(place a philly rapper here)

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[06:29PM] LAKERS_520 sbrecords the type of nigga to take a picture of HHB's homepage and put it in his wallet

Mastur Cheef

tl;dr .