[Editor's Note: "Blogger's Note" has been taken over by Ron Mexico until further notice]
Previously on “That’s My Mans”:
“XXL: What were you doing in between—from the last album to this one, that whole time? What have you been up to?
DMX: Life. I been up to that. It’s been crazy. Fuckin’ police keep on fuckin’ raiding my house and shit for nothing. They took all my fuckin’ guns. All they did is take is take my guns. All they fuckin’ do is fuck my house up and take my guns. That’s all they did. Straight robbed me—that’s what they did.” –DMX Interview, XXLMag.com
By “life” he means “Earl’s $450,000 Crack Party.”
Oh, you shoulda seent it. They had a pile of crack this high!
I’m a Harlem boy who came up in the Guiliani Gestapo era. I’m the first one to throw up a middle finger at some police misconduct. However, somebody needs to remove this nigga’s guns and rock deposits from the house. He’s a danger. Stranger danger! Fuck last week. In my book, X lost his gun-carrying privileges when he pretended to be an FBI agent and played real-life GTA4 with his homeboy at Kennedy International Airport.
He was on much more than that Nintendo Wiid. (Say it with me now.)
I’ve had several run-ins with DMX since the mid 90s. I’ll tell you from experience that JFK Airport wasn’t the first time homie tried that federal agent shit. It’d usually be my smacked-out uncle beating on my door like the police at 3am, but sometimes it would be X.
I remember this one time as clear as day. You never forget some shit like this:
DMX: *knocking violently* Open the door! ATF!
Ron Mexico: What the fuck? X?
DMX: Open the door, Ronaldo. ATF!
RM: *looking through peephole* X, What the fuck?
DMX: Special Agent Clark. ATF. *flashes badge* I need to come inside.
RM: Fuck I look like, nigga? And where you get that badge from? *pause* I ain’t openin this fuckin door. Fuck you need?
DMX: I need to come inside so we can discuss something.
RM: *sigh* You don’t look so good, my nigga. And I’m pretty sure if I have to open this door it’s gon’ result in you gettin shot. I actually got shit to do in the morning. I’m not trynna be down Central [Booking] tonight. For the last time… What you need?
DMX: *no longer shouting* Aight, ha. Lemme get a 20. *slips money under the door*
RM: *slips 20 sack under door* Go get some sleep, Earl… And call a nigga next time. You know better.
RM: *still through the door* Yeoo?
DMX: *wiping sweat from face with sleeve* That’s my mans and them! God bless you, Ronaldo!
I’m not one to tell a grown-ass man what he should and should not be doing, especially concerning his doin how he be doin to keep his mind right. But that’s just it–Obviously this nigga’s mind is pretty fuckin far from okay. His high hasn’t exactly been a good look these past few years.
Clearly the man’s been a fiend for some time, but that It’s Dark And Hell It Hot fiend was at least a fun fiend to have around. This “dehydrated”-ass Arizona nigga–not so much.
X and Bizzy Bone need to get up on a project. I could see it now. Heaven’Z Kennelz.
The latest installment of The Misadventures of Dark Man found Earl playing Double Jeopardy in Miami this past week.
First, X is caught driving without a license (which is always awesome outside of your home state), then the nigga tries to cop $45 worth of coke and Wiid from a friendly Dade County undercover detective.
As illustrated in the comments section of the XXL piece, $45 worth of coke and weed isn’t even that much shit. (If that $45 netted him over a gram of either I’d be even more worried.) Why the fuck is he trying to get that shit from someone he doesn’t know from Adam anyway?
Most likely X was gonna be right back in like 20 minutes to re-up. Especially if he was sharing that with his “bitch” waiting in the
hotel room car.
We give T.I. a lot of shit these days, but has anyone taken the time to read DMX’s rap sheet? Why the hell is homeboy still terrorizing our nation’s streets on an uninterrupted 15-year rock bender? I’d think him a snitch, but apparently he ain’t leadin the police nowhere if he’ll cop his shit from Officer Tubbs standing at an intersection.
“Nah, man. X just livin’ his life… and the police be comin up in his house for no apparent reason.”
Questions? Comments? Requests? Don’t have my cell number? firstname.lastname@example.org