Shecky Stories

My Vegas peeps @TonyDasco and @BillKennedy702 are here inspiring me to speak on Tupac’s shooting at Flamingo and Koval 14 years ago.

At the time I was still a New Yorker but I had a part-time crib a block away from the shooting at the Meridian apartments.

The corner where it happened was/is a desolate parking lot across from a gas station, only a few hundred feet from the glittering Strip.

As others such as @skillzva have pointed out, fight night in Vegas is an insanely packed night, cars are at a standstill.

Knowing the area well, it always confused me how it all went down (Pac’s Vegas shooting). The intersection is heavily trafficked.

Then in 2002 something happened that still angers me to the core. #Tupac

In 2002 a writer named Chuck Philips wrote an article for the LA Times, “Who Killed Tupac Shakur.” Pure, unadulterated BULLSHIT!

The article is full of lies, so egregious it is shocking that it ran in one of the largest newspapers in the world.

Philip’s LA Times article put forth the story that Christopher Wallace pka Biggie Smalls owned the gun that killed Tupac. Insanity.

Here’s that despicable article from 2002, thanks bro: RT @LoLifeIsrael: @SheckyGreen

Here’s a link to that article http://bit.ly/9KEk7W The article contains lie after lie.

The writer, whom I once respected, willingly shit on the legacy of BIG and Tupac. The paper did as well.

The fact that the article ran speaks volumes about the institutional corruption in LA, linking the police and the media.

Tupac murder: unsolved. Biggie murder: unsolved. JMJ murder: unsolved.

Its scary to think of the powerful, evil forces at play who could arrange for such lies to be printed in a major newspaper.

Biggie’s people later proved he was in a NYC studio on the night in question, nowhere near Vegas.

Moreover, anyone who lives in Vegas would know that the sequence of events Philips describes would be IMPOSSIBLE on a fight night.

Vegas needs to put a memorial at Flamingo and Koval where Pac was shot. That famous statue of a gun with its barrel tied into a knot.

My man @DJ_FRANZEN knows exactly what I’m talking about, what happened in Vegas 14 years ago

The year was 1987. I had just started my sophomore year in college (I know… I’m no spring chicken).

I had just started running a rap show on WHRB, Harvard’s radio station. Needless to say, I was in full RAP ADDICT mode… 

It was the Golden Era after all! So one day we get this crazy looking 12-inch in the mail. The label had like a cartoon character on it. 

Can you guess? It was Delicious Vinyl’s first 12-inch. The artist was Tone-Loc and the song was “Cheeba Cheeba.”

Now I’ve never denied being a fan of the mary-jane. Dating back to the mid ’80s I had partaken of the wacky weed. 

SO I popped this “delicious” vinyl on the turntable and heard a slow, funky beat. This one in fact:

(Actually the only version I can find on YouTube is the album version, the original 12-inch was much rawer and even better to me.)

I was intoxicated by the groove and by the rapper’s deep deep voice. The lyrics were funny, and very true to a weed smoker’s p.o.v.

We started playing the song on our college rap radio show, and it got a good response.

Now before you all tune out and say “Tone-Loc?! He’s garbage, who cares?” Stay with me here…

Believe me I wouldn’t bring him up unless this story was worth it.

In late 1987 I get a chance to take my first real trip to LA. I was travelling with my pops, just him and I.

And I wanted to check out the newfangled LA hip-hop scene. So I wrote down the numbers and addresses of labels, including Delicious Vinyl.

So we get there, and I see first-hand all the things that East Coasters always notice about LA: the weather, the palm trees, the women, etc.

On the second day my pops has to go work, so I’m left on my own, and I call up Delicious Vinyl. A dude named Orlando answers…

Long-time hip-hop industry heads will know that “O” is DA MAN, and went on to have a long career in the business.

I head over to the DV office with the intention of interviewing and/or meeting Tone Loc. My real, true goal is to blaze one up with him.

The office is one room with like 5 desks in it. The two founders are there, Matt Dike and Michael Ross. Mind you, they had not yet blown up.

Not long after, WIld Thing would become a worldwide pop smash, as well as Bust A Move, but at this time they were still struggling…

I knew they would think I’m just some random fan, some white boy, so I came in with ammunition. A cassette of some unreleased Public Enemy!

Only the first PE album has been released, and I believe Rebel Without A Pause was blowing up the planet at that moment. So I held some SHIT

Like all the indy labels in my stories, it was a cluttered, disorganized office. I make my introductions and say I’m a Boston rap radio host

(I’m actually from Philly, but I went to school in Boston area.) I tell them I love Cheeba Cheeba and want to do an interview with Tone Loc

They’re very friendly, but they seem kinda doubtful. “Tone is very hard to get in touch with, he’s hard to reach,” they say. 

I break the ice by popping in my PE cassette. The funky power of “Don’t Believe The Hype” comes on, and the whole DV office is going NUTS!

I mean, that IS an incredible record, and it’s the kind of beat that grabs you from the very first listen. After that, they were all ears. 

So Orlando gets on the phone for me, and tries to find Tone Loc. Finally he reaches him, and starts kinda begging him to cooperate.

“C’mon man, this is important!” I recall him saying, and I start wondering if that’s even true. Regardless, plans are made… 

For a time and place to meet up. It’s the next day, and I get into Matt Dike’s red Jeep Cherokee and start heading into the Hills.

Now I should mention that both Matt and Mike were VERY LA-looking dudes, surfer-like, with long blonde hair.

So with my ever-present baseball cap and NYC hip-hop knowledge, I felt even more STREET than them. I was soon to be shocked into reality. 

Matt and I start heading into the Hills, I can’t recall which one, but we were driving on those long windy roads. It was perfect weather. 

Finally after like 30 minutes we pull up to a gated mansion. Nobody had explained a thing to me, so I had no idea what to expect.

Later on I realize that Matt also had no idea what to expect. We ring the bell and a large, bearded man starts walking towards us.

As he walks along the driveway towards the locked gate, I’m thinking “Is this Tone-Loc? Is this him?” He’s wearing dark sunglasses.

As he gets closer, I realize: this man is white! Is Tone-Loc white?! Remember, there were no videos, not even a photo on the record cover! 

This large, white ZZ-Top-looking dude grumbles a few words and lets us in. I’m trying to match the voice to the DEEP one on Cheeba Cheeba. 

The voices aren’t too far off, but I can tell from Matt’s body language that he’s meeting the dude for the 1st time as well-This isn’t Tone.

So we enter this huge nice house with a killer view and there’s a few other white dudes inside. Everyone is silent.

There’s an air of shadiness and suspicion in the place. I cannot put my finger on what it is. The other guys kinda ice-grill me and Matt.

Matt is silent too, and now I realize he has no fucking clue what’s going on in this house. All of us are now waiting for Tone to arrive.

One of the guys starts talking, “Yeah, we’re dealing with some real assholes, and we need some help.” I have no clue…

…how this relates to rap music or Tone Loc. So the six of us white guys are sitting awkwardly for like 45 minutes.

Finally the buzzer rings and ZZ Top goes outside to let the car in. A nice Porsche pulls into the driveway. 

The car is parked and out steps the driver. He is a (pause) MASSIVE Black man, at least 6’5” and 280 pounds of pure muscle. 

I’m thinking, “Is THIS Tone-Loc?” Nobody is making any introductions. Then the massive dude opens the passenger door… 

…and out comes a smiling, bearded Black guy with dark shades (‘Locs, as they became known). He breaks the ice with a laugh. 

And I know right away that THIS is Tone-Loc. The voice is the dead giveaway. He is instantly very friendly and outgoing.

Now here’s the clincher of the story: Tone-Loc opens the trunk of the car and pulls out a large, black assault rifle, an AK-47!

He still smiling and laughing as he handles this exotic-looking weapon. I’m struck mute. He holds the rifle up to his shoulder…

…and points it towards the Hills. “I’ma shoot me some deer today!” he says in that deep voice, laughing to punctuate his remark. 

Now mind you, this is BEFORE the movie Colors, BEFORE N.W.A. I had heard about the LA gang situation but knew VERY LITTLE about it.

Then slowly it all dawns on me. These white guys are drug dealers. And they’re planning a transaction.

And they were waiting for Tone-Loc and his massive friend to deliver weapons that were using as defense/protection. 

I was in a situation I had not anticipated, but in retrospect I think I handled it well. 

I played it cool, and watched as the big dude and Tone unloaded about five AKs from the trunk and lined them up in the kitchen.

Matt and I walked away while the shady white guys and Tone conducted their business. I could see in his eyes he was as freaked out as me. 

So shady business done for the moment, Tone is still all smiles and laughs and jokes. He makes me feel at ease as he suggests we sit down.

I break out my dictaphone (mini tape recorder) and start asking questions. The massive dude comes in and listens, as does Matt.

Tone is very charismatic, as the entire world will soon find out. When I start asking about Cheeba, Cheeba, I reach into my pocket…

and pull out a pre-rolled joint I had prepared for just the occasion. “Aww man,” Tone says, “this bo’ knows the way to my heart!”

The spliff is lit, and as a spliff will do, the mood becomes much lighter and happier as we smoke it.

Turns out, Tone is as curious about the East Coast as I am about the West. He asks a few good questions about PE, Rakim, KRS… 

Interview and joint complete, I pack up and head back out to the driveway. I’m satisfied I made a good impression on him.

As Matt and I are getting ready to roll out, the huge dude taps me on the shoulder. “Hey man, will you do me a favor?”

“You let them East Coast fools know we ain’t soft out here, ok.” Of course I nod “ok,” although I’m not sure I’m the best messenger for him.

And with that we drive away into the LA evening— a little high, kinda charged, but HELLA happy to be alive!

In the early days of The Source’s Unsigned Hype, circa 1991-2, we would receive about 10-20 cassettes a day. 99.8% of them were GARBAGE.

I appointed @MatteoGlen as the man to listen to each tape and pick contenders for that month’s winner. He was the best cat for the job. 

So he comes running into my office one day, more excited than I’ve ever seen about one of these demos. “Yo man, you gotta hear this one!” 

Turns out DJ Mister Cee (who we knew as Big Daddy Kane’s DJ, and as a cool, humble cat) had recorded a new Brooklyn MC and he was FIRE. 

On the tape, Biggie Smalls (that’s what he called himself) was rapping over the instrumental of Big Daddy Kane’s “Ain’t No Half Steppin” 

It may have been the original funk record actually, but Mr. Cee was cutting back & forth and this Biggie Smalls cat was rhyming. 

I remember BIG was speaking before the music started. He was extremely humble. “I want to thank y’all for the opportunity to rhyme for you.” 

What we heard on that tape was the first glimpse of the greatness all of you know about. It was impeccable rhythm, cleverness, clarity. 

His voice was gruff but pleasing to the ear. I don’t recall the rhymes (I’m sure @MatteoGlen does) but the flow was effortless and FUNKY.

So we all knew right away that this was the best demo we would get for this month, probably for a long time.

I asked Matt if there was a photo included. There was not. I soon dispatched Chi Modu, our staff photog, to BK to capture an image.

When the Source issue came out with the “Biggie Smalls” Unsigned Hype, it took only a few days for us to receive a call from one Sean Combs. 

We knew Puffy as an Uptown employee who was branching out on his own. @MatteoGlen took a meeting with him, which was rare.

Usually nobody cared about Unsigned Hype. So Puff listens to the tape and asks Matt: “How does he look?” Matt wasn’t sure how to answer.

Around this time it became clear that there was another rapper named Biggie Smalls trying to make it. He was white. And he sucked.

So Matt, who had recently relocated to BK (early ‘92 now), began to spend more and more time with Biggie as the Puff relationship unfolded.

I admittedly did not pay too much attention until one day which I remember vividly. We were sitting on a stoop adjacent to Washington Sq. Pk

Matt had just come from the studio the night before. He popped in a cassette. And I heard the opening bars from Mtume’s “Juicy Fruit.” 

I always loved that song, it had such a clean groove, so my ears
perked up. Then the rapping started. It was the first ruff mix of “Juicy.”

I don’t have to tell you guys how great it sounded. It was REAL RAP, but it went down like a piece of candy. Smooth, sweet, delicious.

In the 1st verse, when he name-dropped all the hot hip-hop DJs, I felt this internal joy, “he’s a fan too, just like me!”

But then he made a reference to my magazine, and it was such a good reference too. “Smiles every time my face is up in The Source!” Bliss.

I was smiling from ear to ear. I looked at @MatteoGlen and both our eyes were wide with joy. We knew this was going to be a fucking smash.

So the first time I actually meet Biggie is in The Source staircase, at

He was contemplating whether or not to sign with Puff. He had his doubts and was vocalizing both pro and con.

His stance was confident-yet-humble. He knew he had talent, but he wasn’t sure if Puff was the right guy to introduce him to the world.

I remember he was (pause) so big, physically I mean. The blunt looked like a toothpick in his hands.

We were telling him to stick with it, see what happens. @MatteoGlen was there and I think Agallah and Reef.

So soon “Party and Bullshit” drops and the rap world finally hears the greatness. I still love that song and it STILL rocks a party.

I was there for that INSANE performance for Lyricist Lounge when BIG destroyed the room. Remember when crowds used to JUMP JUMP JUMP!?!

So that awful white rapper called Biggie Smalls ended up owning the name. That’s why he had to change it to the awkward: Notorious B.I.G. 

But it didn’t matter, his talent was so abundant any name would have worked. 

Tonight it’s only fair that we discuss the other Fallen Icon of rap, Tupac Shakur.

I want to say right up front that for the longest time I was NOT A FAN. I thought he was wack actually.

 I mean, the first time I saw him was in that Digital Underground video, being carried around on a blanket or something, wearing a kufi.

“You know I clown around, when I run around with the Underground..” that was his first line ever, right?

Then 2Pacalypse Now came out and it was a complete snoozefest. Brenda’s Got a baby? Hey, I’m happy for her.

So one day in 1991 I get invited to attend an event in Miami, it was called How Can I Be Down. I was offered flights and a room.

At the time, even tho The Source was building a big following, we were making peanuts, so a free trip to Miami was a rare and welcome treat.

So myself and photographer David “Shadi” Perez got down there and soon enough we realized this event was “rough around the edges”

First off, it was taking place in a private house. A nice house, mind you. The house seemed to be overseen by shady-looking Jamaican dudes.

Everyone was cool to us, but it was clear that this was no New Music Seminar-type thing. I was surprised to see Dr. Dre and El Lover there.

They were filming a segment for Yo MTV Raps.. looking around the only real faces I recognized were those two, Puffy Combs and Tupac. 

There’s also a healthy amount of ladies around, freaks of all shades and sizes. I had my eye on two petite cuties in sexy yellow shorts. 

So with only a few stars there I start to pay attention to this Tupac cat. The guy was charismatic, that is no doubt. 

I noticed that he constantly had a drink, a cigarette and/or a joint in his hands. Constantly. I mean like THE ENTIRE TIME.

I’m looking at this guy like: how does he stay in shape drinking and smoking like that? He was slim, with wiry muscles and a 6-pack.

Needless to say, the biggest stars there ended up getting all the chicks, and none of them cared about getting with the white boy writer.

I was struck with Tupac’s charisma and energy, but still viewed him as a wack rapper.

A few months later, I get a visit from two Hollywood producers. They wanted to pick my brain about a hip-hop movie they were working on.

Again, this was something rare for a New York-based hip-hop critic, so I was kinda curious what they had in mind.

They start asking me about which rappers would be the best for the lead in a movie. They mention Tupac as someone they had their eye on.

I told them he wasn’t that popular, so maybe they should look elsewhere. Shows how much I knew. The movie they were working on was Juice.

Eventually the movie comes out and of course like everyone else I was blown away by his performance. He killed that shit, no doubt

So now ‘Pac is a rising star in hip-hop. And this is when he’s hangin’ with Biggie and all that. And he’s developing a look and a style.

But I still didn’t like his rapping at all. Until one fateful night that I will never forget. 

It was Lord Jammar’s birthday party in Brooklyn, circa 1993. My man @DanteRoss may remember this. It was being held in an outdoor courtyard.

Beautiful weather that night, I recall. I went ‘cuz I knew a certain female would be there, and she was.

For those who may not know, Lord Jammar was part of Brand Nubian, the talented crew that DOMINATED New York in the eary ’90s.

I’m at this awesome outdoor party in Brooklyn and who do I see? Yes, Tupac Shakur. Full regalia—bandana tied on bald head, shirt open. 

Pac is holding court, basking in his newfound star status. Chicks all over him, the whole nine. I see this other kid watching him.

I realize something funny and weird as shit about this kid watching Pac. The kid is dressed EXACTLY LIKE HIM.

The kid has a bandana like ‘Pac, tied just like his over a bald head, plus other accessories clearly influenced by ‘Pac.

Now comes the weird and unbelievable part. The fake ‘Pac starts walking towards the real ‘Pac with FIRE in his eyes.

So the fake Pac gets close to the real Pac and says something to him. I can’t hear it, but I do hear the real Pac reply in a loud voice.

“Oh no he didn’t!” Everyone starts to look in that direction and gather around. The 2 Pacs (ha) square off against each other.

Then fake Pac starts rapping. He stumbles at first but he keeps going. He’s repping Brooklyn. And pretty soon it’s clear: he’s GARBAGE.

Fake Pac is a walking contradiction. He makes no sense. He’s dressed like the guy but wants to battle him.

And in Brooklyn, the land of legendary rhymers and rhyme skills, he’s displaying wackness. He sucks balls. Everyone in the party knows it.

Even before he’s done his first “verse,” I start looking around furiously. Where is Lord Jammar? Where is Sadat X? Where is Buckshot Shorty?

Remember, I’m an East Coast head and I still hadn’t heard a Pac record I liked. I’m wanting so bad for a skilled BK MC to show skills.

So while fake Pac is half-ass rapping, real Pac is just eye-ing him. He looks calm. He looks confident. He’s gathering material.

By now there’s a crowd of 50 people gathered around watching. And now it’s real Pac’s turn, and now is where my paradign shift occurs. 

Real Pac starts rhyming and he’s tight as shit. He’s got snappy one-liners, he’s got punchlines. He’s ripping fake Pac a new asshole.

He’s pointing out the obvious, but he’s being funny about it. “You’re even rockin your bandana like me!” The assembled roar with delight.

Real Pac can rap and he’s taking the crowd’s energy with him as he continues to demolish this sad sucker. No longer does geography matter.

Real rap is what we want, skills is what we want, and Pac is delivering.

Then the icing on the cake, for me at least. Mind you, I had barely spoken ten words to Pac back in Miami, and had not met him since.

Mid-verse I see him dart his eyes in my direction. “I’ll crush you in front of my man from The Source!” I’m honored, but a bit embarrassed.

Pac easily wins the battle against his 2nd rate copycat. The chick I went to see is impressed he knew who I was, and that was good for me.

We all laugh, clap and party into the Brooklyn night.

That’s it for now… more again soon. Thanks for all the encouragement and RTs.

Ok my friends, for tonight’s TRUE HIP-HOP STORY we will once again take a trip back to 1992.

Those that were around back then will remember that hip-hop movie soundtracks were all the rage.

Often the CD would be more popular than the movie. Such was the case with Zebrahead, a 1992 movie starring Michael Rapaport as MC Serch.

He wasn’t officially named MC Serch, but the character was clearly based on (and consulted by) Serch.

The movie focused on an inter-racial relationship and it was not great. Now that I look at Wikipedia, neither was the soundtrack really.

But there was one gem, one diamond in the ruff that came out of that project: “Halftime” by Nasty Nas.

Up to this point we only knew Nas from that one KILLER VERSE on “Live At the BBQ” from the amazing Main Source LP. Brilliant lyrical mayhem.

“Halftime” was his debut as a solo artist. And it was something special. The boys around ol’ Source office, especially @MatteoGlen, loved it

We were all huge fans of Large Professor’s production work, and Nas really came with the goods over that beat. Excitement was building.

So we would listen to “Halftime” over and over, analyzing all the subtleties. Nas’ flow, his cadence, his content all seemed super-advanced.

That soundtrack appeared on Ruffhouse Records, which was based in my hometown of Philadelphia. I knew the guy that ran it, Chris Schwartz.

I see you @colbycolb. One day we’ll tell all the old Power 99 stories too.

Anyway Schwartz was a Jew, like me. And he did truly love hip-hop. But there was always something a little… off about him.

He was just a quirky guy. And while I advanced in the business by being very knowledgeable about rap music, he seemed to…

…stumble his way to success. Now I must admit, he ended up being MEGA successful with Kris Kross, Fugees, Cypress, so he’s no slouch.

Some of you may have heard the stories of how MC Serch got Nas his first record deal. You may recall Jay Z making a point about this.

During the Jay vs Nas beef, Jay referenced Serchlite Publishing, which is obviously MC Serch’s entity. Serch was the 1st true Nas believer.

So Nas was signed to Columbia and had two good songs released, one solo. And Ruffhouse had a deal with Columbia. And we loved this guy Nas.

For a long time we heard rumors that Nas was working with the top producers of the day, but NOBODY had it, none of it was leaking to us.

Large Pro, DJ Premier, Pete Rock, Q Tip. Needless to say, we were extremely curious to hear the material. But for several months, nothing.

Then one day I took an Amtrak train from NYC to Philly and stopped by the Ruffhouse offices. I think there were several things to discuss.

But my true goal was to hear the new unreleased Nas shit. That was my true mission. The offices were very informal, like many indy labels.

Schwartz held court from behind a very messy desk, with a mop of messy curly hair and the air of someone who could not focus on anything.

So I went thru the business agenda, whatever it was. And then oh-so-casually asked if he wouldn’t mind playing me some new Nas material?

He looked at me surprised. “Nas? You like him?” It was as if I had mentioned Mr. Magoo or Orville Redenbacher. He seemed genuinely shocked.

He had no idea we had spent countless hours listening to two Nas songs over and over, fiending 4 something new we could sink our ears into.

So he moves around a few piles of papers and empty coffee cups and picks up a black cassette. “Here,” he says, “you can have it.”

This is the amazing part of this story. What he handed me, without any consideration, was the first ruff mix of the ENTIRE ILLMATIC ALBUM.

Even tho this was years before I played poker, I was cool enough to keep a poker face. “Thanks man, I’ll take good care of it.”

So with this magical object in my bag, I hurry myself out of there, take a cab to 30th Street and board an Amtrak back to NYC.

As soon as I was seated in the train, I took out my Walkman (yes they were still the main listening device) and popped in the tape.

I nearly floated in the air with pleasure for the entire ride. Song after magical song, rhyme after magical rhyme, it was pure brilliance.

Most of the stuff on there was identical to the final ILLMATIC, but some stuff had different mixes, in particular “Represent”

I cannot believe my good fortune, but I know I have to be careful. His album wasn’t even on the schedule yet.

When I got to “One Love” I literally felt (pause) tingles of joy in the back of my neck. That song is so intense, so creative.

So by the time I get back to NYC I feel like I have the HOLY GRAIL in my pocket. Like I’m the only one with access to this powerful object.

It’s about 9pm, but we used to work late back in the Golden Era Source days. Mind Squad and all that. So I knew cats would still be there.

I get to the office and I gather all the heads in the conference room. I remember who was there: @MatteoGlen @CeeWild @FrozenFiles

Everyone is nodding their heads, eyes wide, mouths open, it’s hip-hop paradise.
We had a pretty shitty system in there but it didn’t matter, I pop in the tape and the powerful musical magic emits from the speakers.

When those funky/eerie/powerful xylophone notes from One Love come on, I remember @FrozenFiles is literally lying on the floor…

He can’t comprehend how good it is. None of us can. It’s the best shit we’ve heard in our lives.

So as it turns out, it would be like SEVEN MONTHS before Illmatic would hit the stores. That’s a LONG ASS time to be holding this power.

Internally, we start debating how we’re gonna handle this. I say right away that it’s gotta get a “5” (the coveted 5-mic rating).

All the people that were there for that first listening session agree with me, but a few cantankerous, grumpy people are doubters.

As the months pass, various songs do begin to leak to the streets (but not from me, fo real!) That was a big issue back then, as it is now.

We end up assigning the review to a young, sassy, knowledgeable Asian female named Minya Oh, better know to y’all as @Missinfoabout

And I take on the task of writing about this masterpiece, how it was made, what it means, etc.

In the end, ILLMATIC does get a “5” and now, some 16 years later, I think it’s clear who was correct about that one.

For those who want to read that story I wrote back in 1994, here it is: http://tinyurl.com/yloj3rkabout

And here’s more about the “5 mic” rating from former Music Editor Reginald C. Dennis: http://tinyurl.com/yg95s9f

That’s the end of tonight’s TRUE HIP-HOP STORY, but I got like HUNDREDS so I’ll likely be back to tell more soon…