← DISGRACELAND
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- [00:05]
Jake Brennan
Double Elvis. I think the last time I spoke to you guys about Quints, I told you about the transit quilted duffel bag that I got for my wife. Well, I got myself a Napa leather duffel bag from Quince as well and I just used it. We used both our bags on this family trip that we took out west. I love this bag. Okay? It looks cool, it looks casual. It looks way more expensive than it is. Not that I care about that, but it just, it's good quality and you can kind of tell when you just look at it. I stuffed it with my new double brush stretch jacket from Quince. You know, when you're, you're going out to dinner, it's summertime, it's too hot to wear a jacket, but you're going somewhere kind of dressy, but you don't want to wear a blazer. You're kind of in that sort of formal fashion. No man's land. That's where the double brushed stretch jacket from Quints comes into play. It dresses you up casually and smartly and you can rock it out around town as well if you're just, you know, running errands and you want to look good. This jacket is my new favorite addition to my wardrobe. And like I said, it along with my Go to Quince merino all season base tees fit perfectly in my Nappa leather duffel bag from Quince. The best part of all this, everything with quints is half the cost of similar brands. Okay? That's important that matters. And they can do this because they work directly with top artisans. They cut out the middlemen and quints gives you luxury pieces without the markup. So keep it classic and cool with long lasting staples from quints. Go to quints.com disgraceland for free shipping on your order and 365 day returns. That's Q U I N C E.com disgraceland to get free shipping and 365 day returns quints.com disgraceland what does possibility mean to you? That's a hard question. Something that you can strive for that I'm able to do anything I set my mind to.
- [01:56]
Kristen Bell
You're confident in yourself and you believe in yourself.
- [01:59]
Jake Brennan
Stuff that you could achieve, I feel at Saita at ebling is possible when you're more confident. Shoes are huge part of that. They are the most important part of my style.
- [02:09]
Kristen Bell
You can like express yourself in the right shoes.
- [02:12]
Jake Brennan
Anything is possible. Dsw countless shoes at brag worthy prices.
- [02:16]
Kristen Bell
Imagine the possibilities.
- [02:18]
Jake Brennan
Disgrace Land is a production of Double Elvis. The stories about Jay Z are insane. As a boy, he shot his own brother. He himself was shot at, arrested for drug possession, charged with the stabbing of a colleague. Raised in one of the most violent housing projects in the country, Jay Z is imbued with a hustler's sense of the street. Yet he's dined with presidents, keeps Warren Buffett, one of the richest men on the planet, on speed dial, and continues to lend his name and his considerable wealth to causes he believes in to help illuminate injustice. Jay Z is impossible to simply categorize. He is as multi hyphenate as they come. Rapper, producer, CEO, entrepreneur, activist. @ his core though, he will forever be simply a hustler. A hustler who has made and continues to make some of the greatest music of all time. Unlike that music I played for you at the top of the show, that wasn't great music. That was a preset loop from my melotron called Hoboken Riddle MK1. I played you that loop because I can't afford the rights to smooth by Santana and Rob Thomas. And why would I play you that specific slice of latin infused Nowhere Rock Cheese? Could I afford it? Because that was the number one song in America on December 1, 1999. And that was the night Jay Z entered Manhattan's KitKat Club and set off a melee resulting in a stabbing that very nearly derailed the career of the most successful hip hop artist of all time. On this episode, a natural born hustler, Nowhere Rock Cheese. The greatest flow in the game, a nightclub stabbing and the eighth wonder of the world, the motherfucking greatest, Jay Z. So thank you ladies and gentlemen. You could have been anywhere in the world tonight, but you're here with me. I appreciate that. I'm Jake Brennan and this is Disgraceland.
- [04:49]
Jay Z
What we're saying is there are white people in the mother country that are for the same type of thing that we are for criminally revolution in the mother country. We if we work with anybody who on coalition with anybody that has revolution on their mind, everything will be all right. If everything will put back in the hands of the people, everybody in the state of liberation, we understand that we want everybody in the party again. We supposed to go to bed man. Die. I am a revolutionary make up Revolutionary Happy hunting ground. Revolutionary Happy hunting ground.
- [05:59]
Jake Brennan
December 4, 1969 Chicago. Fred Hampton had his hustle on as chairman of the Illinois chapter of the Black Panthers. He had to, it was his job. Hustle the Panthers rap Hustle new recruits Hustle the revolution make every word Count. Make every speech sting. America had it coming. Years of white American oppression had led to the formation of the Black Panther Party, an outspoken, radical, sometimes violent organization that had felt the 1960s winds of change blowing through the cold Chicago air and decided that the revolution would most certainly be televised and fucking Technicolor if they had anything to say about it. Freedom, full employment of their people, an end to the robbery of the black community by the white capitalists by any means necessary. Brother Malcolm's hustle was spot on. Fred Hampton knew it. And Fred had his rap down too. Just like Malcolm X, Fred's flow was unique. Unlike any others, Fred Hampton was a highly skilled orator. The Panthers brass knew this, which is why at the tender age of 19, he had rapidly ascended the leadership ranks of the revolutionary organization. And it's also why J. Edgar Hoover had designated Fred Hampton for the FBI's agitator index, marking him as a key militant figure by the time he turned 21. Using the index to track and monitor Hampton's every move. He was followed by G men. His mother's phone was tapped. Unseen forces worked carefully to carry out a disinformation campaign to sow discord between the Panthers and like minded revolution revolutionaries. And most effectively, J. Edgar Hoover managed to place a spy high into Fred Hampton's inner circle. Fred's bodyguard was a snitch, William o'. Neill Ratto had his beef for felony car theft dropped by the FBI in exchange for mulling out Fred and his fellow Panthers to the Bureau on the regular, providing intel information on Fred's whereabouts, the Black Panther's plans, etc. For Hoover and his boys, it was a highly effective asset. They heard everything. They knew everything. And tonight they knew Fred Hampton was on his game, firing up the neighborhood rank and file at the Church of the Epiphany. Spitting revolution to his own rhythm. Sans beat, acapella, fire flow, irresistibly compelling. December 69. The Twilight of American idealism. Uncivil disobedience in the air. But 800 miles away in Brooklyn, things were a bit more peaceful than they were back in Chicago. On that night, at least in the hospital room, Gloria Carter was occupying and this was her fourth child. He would come easy. She knew it. He'd be unaffected by the birthing chaos ringing out throughout the rest of the maternity ward floor. Baby screeching, screaming, bloody murder. Mothers bearing unspeakable pain, Expectant fathers, those who'd managed to show up anyway drunk on anticipation or worse. Chaos ruled everything around her. But not here in her room. She had a feeling this one would be different. Right from the jump, he'd flow easy. December 4th. In the wee hours after Fred's epiphany, rapid 4am Chicago's West Side. Outside a poverty blighted tenement building. A 14 man government sanctioned special ops unit headed up by the Chicago State's Attorney's office in lockstep with Mayor Daley's Chicago pd. It was time. No more fucking around. Just days ago, two cops were shot dead. Seven others riddled with bullets in various shootouts with the Black Panthers. And the cops had it on good authority for from Hoover's inside man that the apartment they were now posted up outside of on this freezing Chicago morning, Fred Hampton's apartment was stockpiled with 19 guns and more than 1,000 rounds of ammunition. The plan was well underway. William O', Neill, Hoover's snitch, Fred Hampton's bodyguard, had slipped Fred a barbiturate after his speech at the Church of the Epiphany earlier that night. And the feds on his mom's wiretap literally heard Hampton pass out mid sentence. Around 1am he was inside, asleep. The revolution was put on pause. And if the Feds had anything to say about it, it would be quelled completely. Before sunrise, they crept up the front stairs, guns drawn. Eight cops, an assassin squad, another six cops posted up behind the back door. A death trap. The stairs in the front hall could barely hold the approaching raiders. They spat out their own burden with every step, creaking and cracking with each creepy footfall. It was only a matter of time before the authorities were made. And they were about to lose the element of surprise if they didn't act fast. 4:45am A cop at the front of the line kicked in Fred Hampton's door. Panther Mark Clark was sitting in a chair on the other side of the door, a shotgun in his lap. Security duty. The cops shot him instantly, direct, straight to the chest. The impact of the shooting caused Mark's finger to pull the trigger. A reflexive death convulsion. His gun discharged into the ceiling. Post mortem, it came out of nowhere and it scared the fuck out of everyone. But for the raiders, it was a fortunate accident. Shots fired. Shit was on. Bullets blasted out from the raiding team from inside the apartment. The rest of the cops barreled into the tiny flat. They had one mission. Find Fred Hampton. They kicked open the bedroom door and there he was, dead, asleep, drugged to the gills. His nine months pregnant fiance had his side shouting her pretty little face off. One cop grabbed her by the hair and dragged her, screaming bloody murder out of the bedroom. Fred lay silent, sleeping, drugged, oblivious. The cops in the room noticed blood on his shoulder. Somehow he caught a bullet from the initial melee. But he was alive and still asleep. Harold Bell, a fellow Black Panther, was in the other room, hands up on his knees, surrendering his eyes and ears wide open. Heard one cop say to another, that's Fred Hampton. The reply is, he dead? Bring him out. He's barely alive. He'll make it. Bring him out. A rustling, Something being dragged across wooden floorboards. And then Bell heard two shots. The screaming stopped. There was silence. One cop broke it, saying, he's good and dead now. They dragged Fred Hampton's body into the bedroom doorway and left it lying in a pool of blood. Then the cops went hunting. They fired multiple shots into the second doorway, wounding four other panthers. They dragged their bloody, beaten bodies down the stairs, out into the street and arrested them for assault and attempted murder of the police officers. Fred. Fred was dead. And sadly, for the purposes of the revolution, so was his hustle. Back in Brooklyn, Gloria Carter's newborn baby was very much alive. Despite weighing 10 pounds, 8 ounces, he flowed easily out of her birth canal. She named him Shawn. Shawn Carter. He'd one day take on many names. J J Hova. As in Jehovah, as in the God MC because of his flow, the CEO of the ROC because of his hustle, and known the world over simply as Jay Z. He was born on December 4, 1969, and he arrived on the day Fred Hampton died. Cause real hustlers just multiply.
- [14:16]
Kristen Bell
Hi, I'm Kristen Bell, and if you know my husband Dax, then you also know he loves shopping for a car. Selling a car, not so much.
- [14:23]
Jake Brennan
We're really doing this, huh?
- [14:25]
Kristen Bell
Thankfully, Carvana makes it easy. Answer a few questions, put in your VIN or license, and done. We sold ours in minutes this morning and they'll come pick it up and pay us this afternoon.
- [14:36]
Jake Brennan
Bye bye, Truckee.
- [14:37]
Kristen Bell
Of course, we kept the favorite.
- [14:40]
Jake Brennan
Hello, other Truckee.
- [14:42]
Kristen Bell
Sell your car with Carvana today. Terms and conditions apply.
- [14:49]
Jake Brennan
I'm David Remnick, host of the New Yorker Rock Radio Hour. There's nothing like finding a story you can really sink into that lets you tune out the noise and focus on what matters in print or here on the podcast. The New Yorker brings you thoughtfulness and depth and even humor that you can't find anywhere else. So please join me every week for the New Yorker Radio Hour. Wherever you listen to podcasts.
- [15:16]
Kristen Bell
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- [15:49]
Jay Z
My world we were called hustlers. In the corporate world, they're called CEOs and businessmen. I used to talk a lot. I was slick. I was slick. I was slick. In a corporate world, they call that a master communicator. Okay, so here were the parallels between the street hustler. The multi million dollar drug dealers who never used drugs, who never was a part of gangs, who never carried guns. Age 19, millionaire. So it was in 1984 that I embraced a criminal lifestyle. My criminal lifestyle was shaped by my mentors. I wanted more for my mother. I wanted more for my mother. I decided that this was the way for me. Which was the meal ticket for tens of thousands of young men of color in inner city communities across America. I was one of those guys. And it's not something that I'm proud of. But you always have to go back to the beginning of how it began.
- [17:04]
Jake Brennan
Ambitious, slick, smooth, cunning. The hustler is all of these things. But he is also distrusting, insecure and paranoid. And right now, in the year of 1994, this Marcy housing Projects hustler was paranoid as fuck. Racing down the New Jersey Turnpike, the drug thoroughfare between his stash house in Brooklyn and the open markets he was conquering in Maryland, D.C. and Virginia. The Nissan Maxima wasn't the Lexus he wanted, but it did the trick. Reliable, inconspicuous, comfortable. And most important, it was mechanically tricked out with stealth hiding spots for his package. The secret compartment in the interior near the sunroof was the spot. A large stash of crack cocaine was inconspicuously hidden. Only he knew where it was. The cop who had stopped him a few minutes ago had no idea. But the German shepherd from the canine unit most certainly would know. Because the dog was an ace drug tracker. A female, the bitch had a more balanced temperament than her male counterparts. And was better inclined for meticulous drug tracking. The cop was waiting on the side of the road, impatient. The hustler in the driver's seat of his Maxima who was known on the street simply as Sean and in rap battle circles as Jazzy, or increasingly by those back in the New York hip hop scene who were in in awe of his highly unique flow. As Jay Z was sweating it, his heartbeat raged, pulsated almost through the roof, squirreled stache and all, when those highway patrol blues flashed behind him, pulling him over. Luckily, the K9 unit was delayed. The cop grew irritated, pissed the dogs were late, pissed his search came up empty. Pissed because he knew this young black man with the tilted Yankees brim and out state of plates was holding. Pissed he could do nothing about it. And pissed that he had to let him go. Freed from potential arrest, as Jay drove down the Jersey Turnpike and watched the K9 unit race by him in the other direction, he called it. He had 99 problems, but ain't one.
- [19:12]
Jay Z
Hit me.
- [19:14]
Jake Brennan
Jay Z dodged a bullet. He knew it. It was only a matter of time though, before he'd be caught or killed. He'd already been shot at three times from close range and remarkably survived. It was a wake up call. Jay was egotistical enough to suppose that his unscathed survival was divine intervention. He was meant for greater things than the street game. He was special. He knew it. His mother told him so all the time. And lately, she wasn't the only one. The rap game. He'd had one foot in from his early teens, battling it out on the Marcy houses for pavement, beating out rhythms on high school cafeteria tables to rhyme over. He could feel the pull, the allure. He was damn good. Better than most. Every time he spit a rhyme in the company of others, he was quickly reminded how good he was, how unique his flow was. He vanquished all comers. He was invited on stage with his hero, rap pioneer Big Daddy Kane. With two other lesser known rappers like him, who were also studied being at the foot of Kane, Tupac Shakur, Queen Latifah. Jay Z stood out in this talented company. Hyping Kane up on stage, filling in for him on the mic while he headed backstage for costume changes, Jay Z crushed Kane started imitating his style. It wasn't long before he was offered the opportunity to rap on other MC's tracks. With every studio guest spot, his reputation grew. But Jay wasn't so easily seduced by the music industry. It was just another hustle, barely more legit and barely less dangerous than the drug game. At least out on the street you knew where you stood with people in the music business, a cesspool of suited up vipers. You were getting Secretly shook down while they shook your hand. In real talk, the money was good, but it wasn't that good. It wasn't like what he was bringing in from his connections down Interstate 95. Plus, Jay thought most rappers were complete clowns pretending to be hustlers, dealers, violent street thugs. He was already all of these things. The game was no game. It was not to be fucked with. You were real or not. You were either in or out. Disinterested, hard, real street politic, Practical minded, criminal minded. Whatever his inclination at the time, Jay Z still knew his fate if he stayed in the streets. So when others around him continued to push a rap career, he increasingly softened to the idea he couldn't get rhyming out of his system anyway. Since he was a young boy, he wrote lyrics in his head. Inspired by the storytelling of Slick Rick and the hard flow and lyrical prowess of Rakim, young Sean Carter used rives to form his own internal identity, to tell his own story. For years he kept that story percolating inside, honing his craft in private, even though he had next to no privacy in the notorious Marcy projects. After his father abandoned the family to pursue a blood feud When Shawn was 10, he had been a quiet kid, distrustful. He told his story in his head on his street corners while he was hustling. But everyone who heard him freestyle heard that story spill out. The street hustler brought to life through rhyme. The story was instantly compelling in his voice, the sound of it all, that natural vulnerability, it played against Jay's put on cockiness and made him relatable an a reliable narrator. Whatever efforts he made in the rap game as a young street entrepreneur, they served as a front for his drug dealing hustle. The first and the 14th of the month, everyone gonna get well. The blighted hopelessness of the mid-80s Marcy Housing projects where for some food in the pantry was time to buy monthly welfare checks. And crackheads could be seen being herded like cattle by predatory dealers as soon as those checks came in. Jay Z was one of those dealers. There would be no checks for Jay Z's mom, just cash. His old man had split. So Jay would take what his environment had to offer and he would provide Marcy houses. This is where teenage Jay Z made his money. And this is where Jay Z honed his musical talent. All making his bones dealing on the street. He cut his teeth at his mother's kitchen table, reading the dictionary front to back to improve his vocabulary and thus his freestyle ability. The learned vocab complemented his natural gift. He was a master of that syncopated flow, the kind that slides over the beat like continents slide over tectonic plates, revealing the volcanic churning underneath the but only if Jehovah commands it. And for Jehovah, underneath it all, deep down, the smooth, irresistible flow birthed a burning fire of ambition. DJ Clark Kent, who was well aware of Jay's talent, had been trying to sign Jay to Atlantic Records as soon as Kent got his A and R gig. Jay, ever the hustler, smartly played hard to get. He wasn't interested, and frankly, Kent's boss bosses at Atlantic weren't that interested either. Kent knew that if Jay was going to hustle as an artist, he needed a business counterpart to take care of the nasty bits, to push and to protect Jay, Kent hooked him up with Damon Dash, a successful club promoter from up in Harlem. The idea was that Dame would manage Jay, take care of the business, while the God MC took care of the rhymes. Kent's inclination was was that with the right hustle behind the right hustler that a record deal would happen on the quick. Dame Dash was exactly that type of hustler. And Jay Z proved early that his business instincts were as astute as his creative ones. When Atlantic Records eventually passed on Jay Z, Jay and Dash dared to create their own independent record label, Rockefeller Records, to sell Jay Z's debut album, Reasonable Dough. It was a risk. It was their own money on the table, and that money would be gone if the record flopped. To further bet on himself, to double down on his instincts, Jay then had the audacity to proclaim that this, his first record, would be his last. It was unheard of. Where other rappers were practically begging for music industry kingmakers to put out their records, Jay was like, yeah, I'm all set. I'll do one and then bounce. Jay had a new kind of attitude team, and he had something to say. The streets were his story. He was the real deal. He had a budding and waiting audience for his debut. Because of his reputation on the street and the buzz he created by proclaiming that his music career would end almost as soon as it began. It was a masterstroke. Anticipation for the album built up, and on its release via distribution deal, Jay and Dame hooked up with Priority Records. In the summer of 1996, Jay Z's Reasonable Doubt debuted at number 23 on the Billboard 200 and charted for 18 weeks, ultimately going platinum. Once the word was out, Jay's rise to the top was as smooth as the ride in the new Lexus he'd purchased after Reasonable Doubt. Roc, a fella leveled up to a distro deal with Def Jam to release, of course, his next album, Forget that One and Done Bullshit. Jay was now a star In My Life Volume 1, which was followed a year later by Volume 2, Hard Knock Life, with the monster single of the same name that traded on a Little Orphan Annie riff of all damn things and led to the record being certified platinum five times over. Another year, another album. The hustle never stopped. In 1999, Jay Z was set to release Volume 3, the Life and Times of S. Carter, with a rumored collaboration with pop Princess Mariah Carey. 1999 was also the year Jay and Dame founded the fashion label Rocawear. Endorsement deals with other brands weren't an option. No problem. Start your own brand. Trade on the trends you were setting. Trade on that mafioso hood. Wrap. Take three sewing machines in a barren downtown office and spin off 80 million in profit in just 18 months. The middleman it was a valuable lesson. Own that shit. Be your own boss. Just like you were back on the corner. Don't take no shit off anyone. Ever. Use your own hustle. Use your hustle to get to where you need to get to. By any means necessary. Just like Malcolm. Just like Fred. But be smart. Stay on the right side of that violence. We'll be right back after this Word.
- [27:39]
Jay Z
Word Word.
- [27:42]
Kristen Bell
This episode is brought to you by Greenlight. Get this Adults with financial literacy skills have 82% more wealth than those who don't. From swimming lessons to piano classes, us parents invest in so many things to enrich our kids lives. But are we investing in their future financial success? With Greenlight, you can teach your kids financial literacy skills like earning, saving and investing. And this investment costs less than that. After school treat start prioritizing their financial education and future today with a risk free trial@greenlight.com Spotify greenlight.com Spotify on WhatsApp, no one can see or hear your personal messages. Whether it's a voice call message or sending a password to WhatsApp, it's all just this. So whether you're sharing the streaming password in the family chat or trading those late night voice messages that could basically become a podcast, your personal messages stay between you, your friends and your family. No one else. Not even us. WhatsApp message privately with everyone Starting a business can seem like a daunting task unless you have a partner like Shopify. They have the tools you need to start and grow your business. From designing a website to marketing to selling and beyond. Shopify can help with everything you need. There's a reason millions of companies like Mattel, Heinz and Allbirds continue to trust and use them. With Shopify on your side, turn your big business idea into Sign up for your $1 per month trial@shopify.com specialoffer.
- [29:12]
Jay Z
By any means necessary to get the criminal off his back. When a criminal starts misusing me, I am going to use whatever necessary to get that criminal off my back. By any any means be necessary. It's not.
- [29:39]
Jake Brennan
Sean Puff Daddy Combs arrested December 1999 on gun charges after a shooting in a Manhattan club DMX arrested on gun charges and animal cruelty in New Jersey Old Dirty Bastard Possession of marijuana and crack cocaine Something was going on in the New York City hip hop scene. It all went back to the murders of Tupac Shakur and Jay Z's Brooklyn brother in Army, Christopher Biggie Smalls Wallace, aka the Notorious B.I.G. the killings didn't happen in New York, but their infamy in the minds of New York's finest had justified the formation of the NYPD's latest initiative, the Hip Hop Task Force, or as they took to calling themselves, the Rap Squad. Their mandate? Keep tabs on New York City's big name MCs. Their entourages rate the danger danger of shootouts, other violence or drug charges. Make arrests, make headlines. If gangster rap had lyrically picked up on the more violent strains of Black 60s radicalism by way of Compton realism, then it only made sense that just like Fred Hampton's Black Panthers, rap would have its own Hooveresque intelligence units keeping tabs from coast to coast. So Jay heard the rumor of the squad, but it worried him little. He was clean. Dealing drugs was in the past. Making records was the now. And he had a banger of an album about to drop. Volume 3 the Life and Times of S. Carter. In just a few weeks, he was hoping to hit half a million in sales in the first seven days. Certify that shit a massive success from the jump, just like everything else he touched. But there was a problem. The record had been bootlegged a month in advance of its drop on the heels of the highly successful pre release single collaboration with Mariah Carey for the song Heartbreaker, a song that hit number one on the Billboard chart and a song that had set up the record for explosive sales. Upon its release, it was all in jeopardy. Due to the album being bootlegged, sales were about to be drastically affected in a negative way. The album blasted out of car stereos all over Manhattan weeks before it hit record stores. Bootlegs of live shows traded among die hard fans had a long history in the industry. But at the dawn of the Internet, bootlegging meant file sharing, not mixtapes. The cost of making infinite new copies of a track was zero. No digital rights management software. And the sun was setting fast on the days of the five time platinum albums like Jay's last one, and a bootleg in 1999 could drop the floor out from under any album to the tune of millions of dollars. Every effort was made to root out the bootlegger. Like Fred Hampton's William o', Neill, Jay Z's rat fuck came from the inside. Ever paranoid and distrustful, his hustler instincts told him so. And when Jay started leaning on co workers at ROC, a fella, one name kept coming back on him. Lance Un Rivera, former business partner to the Notorious B.I.G. un, as he was called, had produced a track on Jay's forthcoming record and presumably had access to. December 1, 1999. Midtown Manhattan. The KitKat Club. The release party for the heavily anticipated solo debut by Q Tip from A Tribe Called Quest. Sean Puffy Combs, Lil Kim, Busta Rhymes and Lil Cease, all on the scene. Jay Z rolled up late and deep, with his entourage behind him at the bar. Lance on Rivera. Jay spied him, confronted him with a bootlegging allegation. Fuck that. Fuck you. I didn't bootleg shit. Who do you think you're even talking to? Fuck out of my face. Jay headed back to the bar, blinders on rage pulsing, darkness closing in. That feeling of being fucked with, losing control, being disrespected, dissed and dismissed. Unacceptable. And Jay's previous occupation. When you were disrespected, and especially if someone took money out of your pocket, you not only stood your ground, you let that know you were not to be with by any means necessary. It was survival. And here, right now in the KitKat club, that familiar survival instinct kicked in and took over.
- [33:51]
Jay Z
Let me justify my thug on this one right here.
- [33:57]
Jake Brennan
Jay turned around, beat a line straight back to Un. Bottle in one hand, knife in the other, he got up on him quickly. Witnesses say Jay spoke direct, a la Michael Corleone to Fredo Lance. You broke my heart. And then smashed the bottle over Unn's brother's head. A quick distraction before plunging the 5 inch blade into UN's gut. Fuck you, bootleg boy. Let that be a lesson. All hell broke loose in the club. Jay Z and his entourage escaped without arrest. But word spread fast. It was Jigga who did on payback for bootlegging his new record. Lance On Rivera's life was never in serious danger, though the stabbing was not life threatening. But the threat to Jay Z's freedom was now very serious. NYPD's rap squad was on the prowl. And by the end of the week, Jay Z voluntarily turned himself into Manhattan's Midtown south precinct. A top rap store is busted. Jay Z turned himself in tonight, and the cops started working on his rap sheet, accusing him of a stabbing at a trendy party. Kimberly Richardson is at Midtown south right now. Kimberly, Louisiana. Just a few hours ago, police here at Midtown south arrested Shawn Carter, better known as Jay Z.
- [35:14]
Kristen Bell
The rap star voluntarily turned himself in.
- [35:17]
Jake Brennan
Here at the precinct earlier this evening. Now Carter is being held here in connection with that stabbing fight that erupted at the KitKat Club last night. But just a few moments ago, Carter's.
- [35:27]
Kristen Bell
Attorney had this to say.
- [35:29]
Jay Z
He's not involved in this. He's not involved. He's not involved. I have my faults, you know.
- [35:51]
Jake Brennan
I'm not a perfect person.
- [35:53]
Jay Z
Perfect person. I have my dark days also, you know. I have my dark days also, you know. I have my dark days also, you know.
- [36:23]
Jake Brennan
When the smoke cleared, Jay Z was charged with the stabbing of Lance On Rivera. Jay pleaded not guilty. Gambling over a potential 15 year prison sentence. He lawyered up, taking a cue from his buddy Sean Puff Daddy Combs, who was at the time facing his own indictment for gun and bribery charges and staring down 15 years himself. Puffy's attorney was notorious mob lawyer Murray Richmond, who had famously defended members of all five New York families at different times, most notably John Gotti, and was known for his colorful quips to the press, having reportedly said, I love murder. Always one less witness to worry about. Murray Richmond may have been a smartass, but he was not without smarts. Sitting in Jay Z's Trump Tower suite ahead of Jay's day in court, he could see the writing on the wall. The two of them were playing cards and watching coverage of Puffy's trial on repeat. The local New York channel seemed to be covering it. 24 7. A block away from Puffy's trial, the terrorists accused of truck bombing the World Trade center in 1993 were also on trial. And the press could give a shit. It was all Puffy, all the time. To those as street smart as Murray Rishman and Jay Z, it was a clear sign Jay's trial would be just as big of a deal as Puff Daddy's and thus prosecutors would be twice as aggressive. As they normally would. And there was only one smart thing to do. Plead guilty. So that's what Jay Z did. After a negotiation, he pleaded guilty to a misdemeanor assault charge for the stabbing of Lance on Rivera. He took a three year probation settlement with the state and reportedly settled out of court with Rivera for somewhere between 500,000 and $1 million. It is unclear whether Lance Rivera ever did bootleg Jay's album. But it didn't matter. Jay Z has gone on to say that the event was, in a way, a blessing. It straightened him out, caused him to change his ways, to leave the street behavior behind and incorporate his hustle in a whole new manner in a way that would make him fabulously successful and the wealthiest black musician of all time.
- [38:47]
Jay Z
Testing 1 million, 2 million, 3 million 400.
- [38:51]
Jake Brennan
Okay.
- [38:53]
Jay Z
Over the years, over the years, I've been part of the awards wearing many different hats. Performer, performer, mc. Presenter, recipient, recipient. This is the top moment of my little walk on, walk on site. And I've been doing a little more contemplating these days than I did 25 years ago. 25 years ago. That's because. That's because. MC, how would you like to be remembered? Well, I would like to be remembered as a man who brought an innovation to popular scene, a peculiar, unique fashion. I would like to be remembered as.
- [39:43]
Jake Brennan
A man who had a wonderful time.
- [39:45]
Jay Z
Living his life and who had good friends, fine family and I don't, I don't think I could answer it anymore.
- [40:05]
Jake Brennan
Ladies and gentlemen.
- [40:09]
Jay Z
Tonight we come to.
- [40:11]
Jake Brennan
Madison Square Garden, New York City, to.
- [40:14]
Jay Z
See and hear legendary superstar Brooklyn, New York, presenting the one, the only, undisputed, undefeated heavy Rape.
- [40:55]
Jake Brennan
Jay Z was retiring at 33 years old. This was his last show. Madison Square Garden in New York. King of the concrete jungle where dreams are made of that empire state of mind. Going out on top of the new Sinatra. Jay Z made it there. He made it everywhere. Since the stabbing incident, he'd settled down. A rumor had it Jay had hooked up with pop goddess Beyonce. A culture shaking power couple was on the make. And Jay Z's personal stock was on the rise. He was maneuvering a break between him and his Roc a fella business partner, Dame Dash. For Jay, it was an effort to leave that street hustle behind completely. Dame was an old dog. New tricks in the boardroom were not an option. The split would not be amicable. Jay was in demand. Dame was still on that street grind. Jay was being courted by nearly every major record label to take their reins and lead them into the 21st century. It was clear to label suits on both coasts that Jay had an inscrutable eye for talent. He'd recruited, collaborated with and helped launch the careers of Pharrell Williams, Kanye west and others. Of all the labels who came calling, Def Jam offered the most value to Jay. In addition to being an iconic record label with artists who in part provided the musical building blocks to Jay Z's formative years. LL Cool J, Slick Rick, Public Enemy and Beastie Boys, Def Jam was also Roc A Fella Records, parent company. So Def jam already owned 50% of ROC A Fella, and they also own the master recordings to Jay Z's records, otherwise known in the music business as the Masters. An artist masters are a potential goldmine of future profits, especially for an artist as successful and prolific as Jay Z. It's extremely rare for major label artists to own and maintain control of their masters. It's a right that is reserved for the biggest, most successful artists of all time, if at all. All we're talking about the Michael Jacksons and Bruce Springsteens of the world. And even then, the right to own one's masters is a right that is hard fought and rarely won. In a business move so cunning it can only be described as Michael Corleone esque. Jay Z vanquished Dame Dash and seized control of his masters at the same time. After the release of his supposed last album, the Blackout album, in his retirement show at Madison Square Garden, Jay Z accepted the position as president and CEO of Def Jam Recordings in exchange for ownership of his masters reverting to him as part of the deal. Dame Dash would stay on to run Roc A Fella, but Rockefeller would have to sell its remaining 50% of the company to Def Jam. The result would mean a cash windfall for Dame Dash. But with Jay Z now running Def Jam and Def Jam now fully owning Roc A Fella in effect, it also meant that Jay Z not only controlled his master Recordings, but he also controlled his former label, Roc A Fella, and by extension his former business partner, the now flush but powerless by comparison to Jay, head of Roc A Fella, Dame Dash. Needless to say, this was an arrangement that did not hold for Dame Dash. He quickly split to start a different record label. Rock for Life. It's been said before, but it's true. Jay Z brought his street hustle to the boardroom. And it didn't stop with Def Jam. When hustlers start to stack their paper more money than they can spend on cars and jewelry and women, the move is to put the money back out onto the street and have it make more money. For Jay Z, the street hustle was over. He put his money into the free market with a series of brilliant investments. He broke off 2 million for Uber as the rideshare company was launching. He then, unsolicited, wired another 3 million to company founders for a bigger stake. They returned it, but regardless, Jay's investment is now worth A reported 70 million. And Jay was brought in as part owner of the Brooklyn Nets NBA franchise. He invested in the Uber of the air, the private jet app, JetSmarter. There's his sports club franchise, the 4040 Club. And of course, he retains a stake in Rocaware after selling a majority of the company to Iconics for $204 million. In addition to his many real estate holdings, Jay Z's art collection consists of Picassos and Basquiats. And in a move rivaling the cunning of the Def Jam deal, Jay Z purchased a majority stake in this streaming service, Tidal, in order to control the distribution of his master recordings, which has in turn allowed him to make record breaking marketing deals for his current recordings. Oh yeah, he unretired from making music again with mega brand Samsung and Sprint. After Jay's tenure at Def Jam, he started Roc Nation, another record label, a music management company and a sports agency all rolled into one to steer the careers and pull in 10 to 20, 20% in fees from artists and athletes like Rihanna, Nick Jonas and Domicon sue. And the Beta boy himself, Kyrie Irving. Along with Bacardi, Jay Z is the co owner of the cognac company Doucet. And to date, his smartest investment was his purchase of the champagne company Armand de Brignac for an estimated $200 million, which has given him a return of roughly $300 million, which is 30% of Jay's portfolio, in a move that pushed his net worth to more than a billion dollars. Remarkably, with all of his music success, profits from his recordings and publishing only amount to about $70 million. The totality of his financial success has elevated Jay Z far beyond the music industry. The self made man from the Marcy housing projects now rubs elbows with Warren Buffett, Bill Gates and and perhaps most famously, Barack Obama. Ambition? Absolutely. Talent. Without a doubt. As a rapper, Jay Z is the goat. He's Tom Brady, Air Jordan, Mike Tyson, Jimi Hendrix and Frank Sinatra all rolled into one. And not just because he has more number one albums than Elvis Presley or Michael Jackson or Prince or Elton John or Madonna or anyone ever in the history of music, with the exception of the Beatles, and not because of his unmistakable flow, a technique uniquely his, immediately recognizable as Jay Z. It's because of his hustle, a work ethic learned on the corner, selling crack, reciting rhymes in his head over and over. J. Hova, so focused that to this day, the man does not actually write his lyrics on paper. It's all flow, all the time. For Jay Z, the hustle wasn't just a means of survival in Brooklyn's Marcy housing projects. It was a lifelong learning experience, an evolution. Jay Z was smart enough to use the street to propel him out of his circumstance. But once that street hustle threatened to tear him down with his violent approach to conflict resolution, Jay Z was smart enough to recognize that a new hustle was needed to survive, to thrive. Because real hustlers never die. They just multiply. This isn't a new rule. This is ancient wisdom of the alpha, of the ascendant ones. Jay Z's illumination is no longer a mystery. And for some, for those who hold the keys, who know the code to the Magna Carta, the map to the Holy Grail, that is a disgrace. I'm Jake Brennan and this is is Disgraceland. Disgraceland was created by yours truly and is produced in partnership with Double Elvis. Credits for this episode can be found on the show notes page@gracelandpod.com if you're listening as a Disgrace Land All Access member, thank you for supporting the show. We really appreciate it. And if not, you can become a member right now by going to Disgracelandpod.com membership members can listen to every episode of Disgraceland Ad Free. Plus you'll get one brand new exclusive episode every month, weekly unscripted bonus episodes, special audio collections, and early access to merchandise and events. Visit Disgrace's DisgraceLandPod.com membership for details, rate and review the show and follow us on Instagram, TikTok, Twitter and Facebook Disgracelandpod and on YouTube@YouTube.com Disgracelandpod Rocka Rolla He's a bad, bad man.