Method Man (Wu-Tang Clan Chapter 3): Dice Games, Dodged Bullets, and Murder in the Street

Summary

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DISGRACELAND – Method Man (Wu-Tang Clan Chapter 3): Dice Games, Dodged Bullets, and Murder in the Street

Podcast: DISGRACELAND
Host: Jake Brennan (Double Elvis Productions)
Date: September 12, 2023
Episode Theme:
A gripping, true crime–infused narrative chronicling the chaotic, violent, and ultimately transformative journey of Clifford “Method Man” Smith from Staten Island hustler to hip hop legend with Wu-Tang Clan. The episode delves into the real-life stakes of street hustling, police violence, and the communal forces—both creative and destructive—that shaped Method Man and Wu-Tang Clan’s ascent.

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Episode Overview

This episode peels back the gritty, often brutal reality of Method Man’s upbringing and early criminal exposure in Park Hill, Staten Island. With edge-of-your-seat storytelling, Jake Brennan walks listeners through Method Man’s brushes with death, law enforcement, and chance, culminating in his fateful recruitment to Wu-Tang Clan by RZA. The story is set against the backdrop of the 1990s, exploring dice games, crack sales, police brutality, survivor’s guilt, and the ever-present specter of violence. Throughout, the episode exposes the human cost and high stakes underpinning the mythos of Wu-Tang—going beyond the biopic gloss.

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Major Discussion Points & Insights

1. Clifford Smith’s (Method Man’s) Street Beginnings

• High-Risk Hustles: Method Man’s introduction to risk through necessity, not choice—a desperate $5 “ass bet” in a dice game that unexpectedly nets him $800.
  • “He didn’t make a habit of ass betting, but desperate times and all that.” (06:06)
• Transformation of Earnings: That windfall wasn’t for temporary comfort—it became seed money for buying crack to sell on the streets, marking a transition into deeper illegal activity.
  • “$800 was the perfect amount of money to get you set up as a player in Park Hill's single most booming industry. Clifford Smith invested that money in crack.” (09:49)
• Constant Peril: Detailing Staten Island’s atmosphere: over-policing, harassment, and the perpetual gamble of simply walking out your door.
  • “Walking out the front door of your apartment every day was a gamble. Everything you did was a gamble. Every choice you made.” (07:10)

2. Near-Death Experiences and Street Lessons

• Drug Deal Gone Wrong: A vivid anecdote where a customer swipes Method Man’s product and drags him with the car, foreshadowing how mistakes can escalate quickly.
  • “The vials spilled onto the passenger seat. The driver grabbed the gearshift and hit the gas and the tires squealed. Cliff clung onto the passenger door as the car began to move… He lost his grip and he was thrown to the ground as the car disappeared…” (12:11)
• Police Crackdowns: Surviving the NYPD’s TNT squad with help from friends (notably U-God), highlighting the dangers of routine crack sales and the omnipresent threat posed by authorities.
  • “The first time, it was the New York police on the prowl…YouGod spotted TNT before Cliff did. You got looked over at Cliff across the way. Cliff was holding. Yugod didn’t have to say a word, just gave Cliff a look. A look that didn’t say a thousand words, just two. Go now.” (17:12)

3. RZA’s Intervention: The Fateful Moment

• A Decision that Saves a Life: RZA calls Cliff over for a chat instead of letting him go into 160 Park Hill Ave for weed. Moments later, a drive-by shooting leaves a young bystander dead—Meth could have been the victim.
  • “If RZA hadn’t been there, across the street, if RZA hadn’t called Meth over…chances are Meth would be bleeding out on that Park Hill Avenue sidewalk right now.” (21:37)
• The Wu-Tang Vision Statement: RZA presents his vision for Wu-Tang as more than just a group—it’s a way out. He asks for five years to change their lives.
  • “Five years. That’s all RZA needed. Give him five years and they’d have a number one record. Plus they’d be far away from all of this.” (23:27)

4. Wu-Tang Clan’s Strategic Breakthrough

• The Launch: The November 9, 1993 release of Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers) is recounted. Wu-Tang’s slow-burn success is contrasted with the immediate explosion of Tribe Called Quest, underlining their outsider status.
  • “Where Midnight Marauders was hooking up and lean, Enter the Wu Tang was dense. It was grimy, murky, cross stitch of kung fu samples, coded language, alter egos and pop culture references. It made listeners work.” (28:46)
• Unique Contractual Freedom: RZA’s innovative contracts allow Wu-Tang members solo deals on different labels, saturating the market with “Wu.”
  • “The plan wasn’t just to make that big explosion, but to capitalize off the shrapnel…If nine different labels are promoting nine artists who happen to be in Wu Tang Clan, ultimately those nine labels are all promoting Wu Tang Clan.” (31:30)
• Method Man’s Def Jam Leap: As the youngest member, Method Man’s solo deal is three times the value paid for Wu-Tang as a group, symbolizing both his personal and the group’s wider industry validation.

5. Systemic Violence & Community Grief

• Ernest "Case" Sayon’s Death: The NYPD's killing of Case, a friend of Method Man, becomes a neighborhood flashpoint. The police narrative versus the community’s reality—official gaslighting is called out.
  • “...the community rallied, and they weren’t going to be quiet. They weren’t going to let Rudy Giuliani tell them how to feel. Hundreds of Park Hill residents marched to Borough Hall, candles in hand, and where they looked the NYPD in the eye, called them as they saw them, murderers.” (35:42)
• Survivor’s Guilt: The episode draws a chilling parallel: the same day Case is killed on Staten Island, Method Man, Raekwon, and Ghostface are detained in San Francisco—reminding them they’re never truly insulated from violence, no matter their fame.
  • “But to Meth and the guys, just because they were members of Wu Tang Clan didn’t make them different from guys like Case. Case could have been any of them.” (37:10)

6. The East/West Tension & the Media’s Role

• East Coast / West Coast Myth: Method Man rejects the narrative of an inevitable East/West beef. The real threat is the universal exposure of public life, not manufactured rivalries.
  • “As far as Wu Tang saw it, there was no East Coast west coast beef… It was all propaganda, media hype, narrative to sell magazines. Too many people took the east west thing seriously, believed it was actually a thing.” (39:27)
• Target on Their Backs: Even as stars, the threat of violence—random or connected—is constant. A tense scene at LA’s House of Blues underscores the now-pervasive fear, with Method Man refusing to accept a gun for protection.
  • “He needed the Crip to understand. He appreciated the offer, the gesture. But he didn’t want a gun. Not now, not ever.” (42:39)

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Notable Quotes & Memorable Moments

• On the Street Gamble:
  • “Walking out the front door of your apartment every day was a gamble. Everything you did was a gamble. Every choice you made. And either you gambled on your own life or someone else would.” (07:10, Jake Brennan)
• On the RZA’s Rescue:
  • “If RZA hadn’t been there, across the street, if RZA hadn’t called Meth over…chances are Meth would be bleeding out on that Park Hill Avenue sidewalk right now. This realization hit Meth hard. One decision made all the difference.” (21:37, Jake Brennan)
• On Policing and Grief:
  • “The community rallied, and they weren’t going to be quiet. They weren’t going to let Rudy Giuliani tell them how to feel. Hundreds of Park Hill residents marched to Borough Hall, candles in hand, and where they looked the NYPD in the eye, called them as they saw them, murderers.” (35:42, Jake Brennan)
• On Wu-Tang’s Unique Deal:
  • “The plan wasn’t just to make that big explosion, but to capitalize off the shrapnel…If nine different labels are promoting nine artists who happen to be in Wu Tang Clan, ultimately those nine labels are all promoting Wu Tang Clan.” (31:30, Jake Brennan)
• On Rejecting Gun Culture:
  • “He needed the Crip to understand. He appreciated the offer, the gesture. But he didn’t want a gun. Not now, not ever.” (42:39, Jake Brennan)

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Key Timestamps and Segments

| Time | Segment | |-------------|--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| | 05:00–10:00 | Dice game, Method Man’s first big score, entry into drug game | | 12:00–13:00 | Failed deal, nearly killed by being dragged by a car | | 17:00–19:00 | Escape from NYPD’s TNT squad with U-God’s warning | | 20:30–21:45 | RZA’s call, Method Man narrowly avoids being shot in drive-by | | 28:15–32:00 | The debut of “Enter the Wu-Tang,” RZA’s industry plan, solo deal proliferation | | 34:50–37:00 | Ernest “Case” Sayon’s murder by cops; the effect on Method Man and the community | | 39:30–42:30 | LA/NY tensions, House of Blues scene, Meth’s refusal to take a gun | | 43:40–end | Teaser for the next chapter: gun violence, Steubenville incident, “to be continued” |

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Concluding Thoughts

Jake Brennan paints Method Man’s journey as both harrowing and redemptive, with moments of luck and decisive intervention shaping the fate of not just one artist, but an entire movement. The story powerfully conveys how every gamble—on the street or in the studio—has life-altering stakes. The episode ends with ripples of violence returning to haunt the clan, promising even deeper stories ahead.

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“Protect Ya Neck wasn’t just a buzzworthy line, it was a mantra.” (42:54, Jake Brennan)

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Transcript

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This is Jacob Goldstein from what's yous Problem? Business software is expensive and when you buy software from lots of different companies, it's not only expensive, it gets confusing. Slow to use, hard to integrate. Odoo solves that because all Odoo software is connected on a single affordable platform. Save money without missing out on the features you need. Odoo has no hidden costs and no limit on features or data. Odoo has over 60 apps available for any needs your business might have, all at no additional charge. Everything from websites to sales to inventory to accounting. All linked and talking to each other. Check out Odoo at o d o o.com that's o d o o.com Disgraceland is a production of Double Elvis Double. The stories about the Wu Tang Clan's Method man are insane. As a teenager, he won $800 on a five dollar bet, a dice game. He used those winnings to set himself up as a crack dealer on Staten Island. He was dragged down the street by a car when a buyer stole his product and sped off. His life was saved by a friend who pulled him out of the wrong place at the right moment, a moment in which he literally dodged a bullet. That friend was the RZA who offered Method Man a spot in the new hip hop supergroup. He was assembling a group that made great music, some of the most enduring hip hop music of all time. Unlike that clip I played for you at the top of the show, that wasn't great music. That was a preset loop from my melotron called Kmart Wardrobe MK2. I played you that loop because I can't afford the rights to Bump and Grind by R. Kelly. And why would I play you that specific slice of 31 year prison sentence cheese? Could I afford it? Because that was the number one song in America on April 29, 1994. And that was the day that Ernest Sean, known to Method man as Case, was choked to death by cops on Staten Island. A senseless tragedy that had a major ripple effect on Wu Tang's community and home base. On this episode. Dice games, drug games, stolen products, dodged bullets, a death on Staten island and Wuang Clan's Method Man. I'm Jake Brennan and this is disgrace. From up on the roof he could see everything. The sidewalk, the street, the cars coming and people going. Staten island hummed with activity Clifford Smith, the teenage kid that the world would later know as Method man, wanted to make sure that all that activity down below wasn't following him. The young mess, AKA Cliff. Here he surveyed the scene from his rooftop perch. No one was looking for him. No one was after him. Good. He pulled the wad of cash from the pocket of his dirty jeans. He counted it. And then he counted it again. $800. He could hardly believe it was real, but it was real. It was surreal. Not only the fact that he, Clifford Smith, had $800 in his hand, but that he had won it on a five dollar bet. An ass bet, no less. He didn't make a habit of ass betting, but desperate times and all that. An ass bet is definitely desperate, if not stupid and cocky too. That's when you make a bet on a dice game but actually have no money to back it up if that bet you made loses. Cliff didn't see any other choice. He needed the cash and was willing to take a chance in order to get it. For a while. He had a job. A good job. Assistant manager at the Statue of Liberty. The kind of job you could brag about back in the projects. But he lost that job. Sidelined with a foot injury. This was the late 80s. Cliff was 16. Paid time off for a teenager. You couldn't do the work and you didn't have a job. It was as simple as that. He was out of options. The cassette tapes he was making under the name Chaquan the Poet, shaquan being his 5 percenter name, were for bragging rights only, not for big bucks on tracks like Pantyrader and My House. My House. Cliff, as Shaquan, kicked rhymes over rudimentary Casio key keyboard beats. He was something of a sensation in the Park Hill projects and the notoriety came easy. The money did not look around. No one had money in Park Hill. Cliff didn't know anything different. But he knew there was something better out there. There was definitely something better than the way things used to be. Years ago, cramped inside a Manhattan shelter for battered women with his mom and two sisters who knew where Cliff's father was. He didn't want to be around. And Cliff didn't want someone around who didn't want to be around. And the family could do without. There were a lot of things Cliff could do without. Like the Staten island beat cops who roamed the halls of his apartment building using the presence of their service revolvers or the color of their skin as an excuse to do whatever they wanted. Harassment, humiliation, illegal searches on Teenagers, illegal searches on kids like Cliff. It's all bullshit. Cliff wasn't a suspect. He gave the cops zero reason to talk to him, let alone stop him. But the cops didn't need a reason. Empty your pockets, hands up against the wall, and spread them. Walking out the front door of your apartment every day was a gamble. Everything you did was a gamble. Every choice you made. And either you gambled on your own life or someone else would. So Cliff made the bet. Put down five bucks he didn't actually have on the neighborhood craps game. If the dice rolled anything but a 7 or 11, he was fucked. He thought about what he would do if that happened. About how fast he could get out of there and disappear into a cluster of pedestrians, swim upstream, lay low, but on a busted leg. Seriously, this idea was looking dumber by the second. There was no going back now. He didn't make a bet and then unmake the bet. The rest of the players anted up. Major skin in the game. Cliff, meanwhile, was worried about his actual skin. He rattled the dice around in his clenched fist, and with a flick of his wrist, he tossed them and they rolled onto the pavement and settled. One die read three. And the other four, seven. Jackpot. Cliff was up on that rooftop now, taking it all in. The amount of money in his hands, the relative safety of his surroundings, and his luck. He felt like he just pulled off a heist or a magic trick. And now that he had actually turned an ass bet into a major win, it was time to double down. Turn that 800 bucks into more money. Double it. Triple it. This wasn't savings account money, and it wasn't tied you over till the next job kind of money either. $800 was the perfect amount of money to get you set up as a player in Park Hill's single most booming industry. Clifford Smith invested that money in crack. The car came to a stop on a Staten island street. The driver leaned over towards the open passenger side and looked out the open window and waited. Cliff was already running from the sidewalk to the car in the street. Fast. You were either fast or you're out of a sale. And there were just too many other dudes slinging rock in Park Hill. The competition was stiff, but it wasn't about who was the best. This wasn't a hair salon. A buyer didn't have their person. It was all about who was the fastest. It was all about car running. You get to the car first, you get the sale. And you get the money. Cliff was winded when he reached the idling sedan. He leaned inside the open passenger side window, extended his hand. Inside his palm were about 10 small vials, just a fraction of the drugs his dice game winnings had afforded him. How many you want? The driver didn't hesitate. All of them, he responded, and then he swatted at Cliff's hand with his own. The vials spilled onto the passenger seat. The driver grabbed the gearshift and hit the gas and the tires squealed. Cliff clung onto the passenger door as the car began to move. He dug his fingers into the upholstery and tried to hold on. The car picked up speed. Cliff's sneakers dragged along the pavement. He tried to run alongside the car, but it was going too fast. He felt his knees begin to buckle. Shit. He lost his grip and he was thrown to the ground as the car disappeared into the distance, quite literally left in the dust. No vials and no money. What was he thinking, leaning all the way into the car, his hand wide open with all that product free for the taking? Rookie mistake is what that was. The kind of mistake that happens for a reason. That's how you learn. That's how you understand. Because next time it wouldn't be some vials of drugs slapped out of Cliff's hand. Next time it would be his own life that was on the line.

[Ryan Seacrest]

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[Public Investing Representative]

Support for the show comes from Public, the investing platform for those who take it seriously. On public you can build a multi asset portfolio of stocks, bonds, options, crypto and now generated assets which allow you to turn any idea into an investable index. With AI. It all starts with your prompt. From renewable energy companies with high free cash flow to semiconductor suppliers growing revenue over 20% year over year. You can literally type any prompt and put the AI to work. It screens thousands of stocks, builds a one of a kind index and lets you back test it against the S&P 500. Then you can invest in a few clicks. Generated assets are like ETFs with infinite possibilities, complete completely customizable and based on your thesis, not someone else's. Go to public.com podcast and earn an uncapped 1% bonus when you transfer your portfolio. That's public.com podcast paid for by Public Investing Brokerage Services by Open to the Public Investing Inc. Member FINRA and SIPC Advisory Services by Public Advisors llc. SEC Registered Advisor Generated Assets is an interactive analysis tool. Output is for informational purposes only and is not an investment recommendation or advice. Complete Disclosures available at public.comdisclosures

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[Jake Brennan]

Lamont Hawkins soon to Be better known by his 5 percenter name, Universal God, aka you God. And also soon to be better known as a member of the formidable Wu Tang Clan with the likes of Corey Woods, AKA Raekwon the Chef and Clifford Smith, AKA Method man, was a good friend. Lamont partied with Corey at the Union Square nightclub and worked with Cliff at the Statue of Liberty. But Lady Liberty was in the past. Now Cliff and Yugod were selling crack together on Staten Island. Whether it was working an odd job or working a crack deal, having friends who had your back was key. Friends were necessary. As Yugod later said himself in his autobiography, knowing the right people could potentially save your life. Cliff had his life saved by the right people twice. The first time, it was the New York police on the prowl. The Tactical Narcotics Team, or tnt, the street level task force created by the NYPD to take down low level drug dealers was in Park Hill that day. No one saw the undercover cop who made the deal, but everyone saw what happened next. Police cruisers, sirens, blue shirts, suns out, guns out. Dealers scattered. Plain clothes and uniform cops gave chase and they tuned up whoever they could catch. Some guys stopped and put their hands up, dropped to the ground, did as they were told. Others ran as if their lives depended on it. YouGod spotted TNT before Cliff did. You got looked over at. Cliff across the way Cliff was holding. Yugod didn't have to say a word, just gave Cliff a look. A look that didn't say a thousand words, just two. Go now. The kind of unspoken chemistry that would one day pay dividends in a recording studio. Cliff was running fast as he ran from that dice game to the rooftop, Fast as he ran to the cars in the street to make a sale. In a flash, he was off the sidewalk and and inside his building. Blood pumping, heart pounding, his feet hit the staircase. He was moving faster now. He assumed the worst, that the cops were steps behind him. He made it to his apartment, got rid of his vials, then back down the stairs without being spotted. And while the cops came in through the front and back doors, Cliff slipped out of a side door. His body surged with pure adrenaline. The second time Cliff's life was saved was in July 1992. Cliff was 21 now. Once again, it helped to know the quote unquote right people. Bobby Diggs, AKA the rza, was chilling on a Park Hill Avenue stoop alongside Raekwon and Jason Hunter, AKA Inspector Deck. Only a few months earlier, RZA returned to New York after being found not guilty of attempted murder in Ohio. He was back with a new purpose in life. He was telling Ray and Deck about this new purpose, this clan, and how they both fit into it. He was telling them how others fit into it too. Other guys from around the way. Like that cat across the street right now, Clifford Smith, the guy who was walking on the opposite sidewalk as they spoke. RZA and the guys all knew Cliff as Shaquan the poet, freestyling on the corner, handing out his latest tape. He could rhyme and he he was also a good looking dude, which meant that he scored points with the ladies. Having Cliff in your group would seriously up the ratio of women to men in the crowd at your shows. At the moment, Cliff was headed to 160 Parkhill Ave. That's where the weed was. Everyone knew the best weed was at 160. The 160. And Cliff, well, he liked weed more than most. In fact, he smoked so much weed that RZA didn't call him by his birth name and he didn't call him by his 5 percenter name. RZA called Cliff Method or Methical, both Staten island slang for marijuana. Meth for short. In RZA's mind, it was more than just a nickname. It was a new identity that separated the past from the future. An identity that was crucial to the musical world building RZA was currently mapping out. In his head, RZA hollered at Meth, come over here. And Meth paused. He looked in RZA's direction and RZA threw a hand up. Meth stood in front of the building at 160 Park Hill Ave. Looked at the door and then turned back to RZA and the guys trying to make up his mind. Weed first or RZA first? Nah, RZA first. The weed would still be there later on. RZA might not. Meth walked over to RZA's side of the street. What's good? RZA had the details. Wu Tang was about to go from concept to reality. Wu Tang was where Meth belonged, not here out on the street getting robbed by fiends and dragged by their cars or chased by the NYPD's TNT squad. RZA had a life changing experience and now he was about to change the lives of everyone else. It was like the Supreme Numbers said. One, you do the knowledge, two, you do the wisdom, and three, you truly understand. One and two. Wu Tang wasn't just another hip hop group. It was a way out. That was something they could all understand. Just then, a car came to a screeching halt on the other side of the street. Directly in front of number 160. A small cluster of people were standing on the sidewalk outside. People going inside to buy weed. Or people who'd already bought weed and were on their way out, standing in the exact spot where Matt had just been moments before. There was shouting, loud music booming from the car's stereo. And then gunshots, rapid fire. Flashes of light from inside the car. Smoke. The car's wheels began to spin, rubber burning on asphalt. The muffler rumbled and the engine raced. The car shot off down the avenue, and quickly the sounds of chaos were replaced with the sounds of screams. People writhing on the ground, shrieking in pain. Four injured. Another, a kid just 16 years old, dead. A kid who wasn't even involved in hustling on the streets. A kid who had walked up the street to get his mom a pack of menthols and was on his way back home. Meth could have been that kid. Meth almost was that kid. If RZA hadn't been there, across the street, if RZA hadn't called Meth over, talk to him about this greater purpose, chances are Meth would be bleeding out on that Park Hill Avenue new sidewalk right now. This realization hit Meth hard. One decision made all the difference. Just one. All the difference. The difference between here or there, dead or alive, odd or even. This door, that path. Rza, the man who had just saved Meth's life by hollering at him from across the street looked at Meth and told him that he had the route. He knew the way. Get on the bus. RZA was driving. Just don't ask where they were going. Five years. That's all RZA needed. Give him five years and they'd have a number one record. Plus they'd be far away from all of this. RZA obviously had the knowledge and the wisdom. And Meth, well, he had never understood anything so clearly in all his life.

[Public Investing Representative]

We'll be right back after this.

[Ryan Seacrest]

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[Public Investing Representative]

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[Jake Brennan]

next November 9, 1993 was a big day for fans of New York hip hop. Two records hit store shelves that day. A Tribe Called Quest released their much anticipated third studio album, Midnight Marauders, and newcomers Wu Tang Clan released their debut, enter the Wu Tang. 36 Chambers tribe was at the height of their powers and their popularity. Midnight Marauders took off like a shot all the way to number eight on the Billboard 200 certified gold in just two months. Wu Tang, on the other hand, wasn't so fast out of the gate. Where Midnight Marauders was hooking up and lean. Enter the Wu Tang was dense. It was grimy, murky, cross stitch of kung fu samples, coded language, alter egos and pop culture references. It wasn't gangsta rap and it wasn't conscious rap, and it wasn't party rap. It was its own thing. It made listeners work. And though many of those listeners put down their hard earned cash for a copy, 30,000 units sold in the first week alone. The album peaked at only number 41 on the Billboard 200, not even close to the number one spot RZA had promised to the rest of the clan. But in his defense, it was a five year plan, and five years had yet to pass since he'd made that promise. Anyway, word began to build. The Klan put in the work. They performed raucous live shows they hit the road and they brought the ruckus to major markets far beyond New York. They were both dead serious and absolute Jesters, A transgressive collective of creative thinkers who wormed their way into the hip hop world and exploded it from within. By January of 1995, a little over a year later, when both the Tribe and Wu Tang albums were certified platinum, Enter the Wu Tang had actually surpassed Midnight Marauders in total sales. That's when the RZ's master plan really kicked in. The plan wasn't just to make that big explosion, but to capitalize off the shrapnel that came from the big bang. The solo albums, the free agent side deals, the part of that initial record contract with Loud granting each member of the group the freedom to make his own records with other record labels. And the more labels Wu Tang could infiltrate, the better. Because if nine different labels are promoting nine artists who happen to be and Wu Tang Clan, ultimately those nine labels are all promoting Wu Tang Clan. Saturate the market with Wu. Increase your chances of making it to number one. Make that money. RZA and Wu Tang Productions did just that. RZA Inc. Deals with most of the guys in the group. A 5050 split on their solo earnings so that they could use the Wu Tang name. And all the way back in early 1990, three months before enter the Wu Tang was even released. Back when Protect Ya Neck was the only official release they had on the market, three members of Wu Tang signed solo deals. JZZA was picked up by Geffen Records, Old Dirty Bastard went with Elektra Records, and Method man signed with Def Jam. Meth's deal was the one that really stood out. At just 23 years old, the youngest member of the group, meth signed for $180,000. $180,000 was three times what loud Records paid for the entire Wu Tang Clan. In 1994, Meth released Tikal, the first solo album by a Wu Tang member. Meth's record deal, the success of his album and the success of Wu Tang's album was a testament not just to RZA's plan, but to the hard work they all were putting into the process. Their reality was changing. But the more reality changed, the more it stayed the same. Just as Meth was celebrating his own triumphs, tragedy struck back home on Staten Island. We're urging everyone to wait and not to draw any conclusions here and to remain calm. This is being fully investigated by the police department, by the district attorney's office. We've been through situations like this in our city before, where what appears one way at first turns out to be another way a little bit later. So it would be a shame if anybody jumped to conclusions here before. At least there was an opportunity to have a full and complete investigation. April 29, 1994. No one on Staten island wanted to hear what Rudy Giuliani had to say that night. But Giuliani was talking all the same, live on the radio, doubting the truth. Doubting what had happened just hours earlier on Park Hill Avenue. As if the neighborhood suffered a mass hallucination. But they did see it. They watched cops kill one of the neighborhood's own. NYPD choked the life right out of them in the open. It was early evening, daylight, escaping like the final breaths of the dead man on the pavement. And now here was Giuliani on air, talking down to them, patronizing them. It's the same old Ever since Giuliani had been sworn in as New York's mayor back in January, things had gotten worse for Park Hill. The cops got real cozy in the 120th Precinct in their special narcotics emergency unit, harassing kids for loitering, humiliating kids by pulling down their pants to check for drugs. And the only thing the increased NYPD drug sweeps did was make a tenuous relationship between the community and law enforcement even worse. And now Case was dead. Ernest Sayon, aka Case, 22 years old, walking up Park Hill Avenue when the cherry bombs started going off. Someone was tossing them, no doubt trying to with the police, not Case. But there he was, just walking in plain sight. The cops took a look at him. The cops knew Case. He had his fair share of brushes with the loss. The cops were probably thinking about that as they watched him walk. Eyewitness accounts vary as to what happened next. Some say that Case did nothing to provoke the attack, that he didn't resist. That a cop walked up right behind him, hit Case in the back of the head with the butt of his pistol. The Case staggered, grabbed hold of a nearby sycamore tree until the cop hit him again and knocked him unconscious. And that the cop dragged him by his hood until his pants came off. But what did happen was a Case wound up face down on the ground, pants around his ankles, hands cuffed behind his back. 3/4 inch gash bleeding from the back of his head. One cough with his knee on Case's back, another with his elbow behind Case's neck. Case struggled to breathe. He choked and gasped for air in the knee on his back and the elbow on his neck felt like a thousand pounds bearing down and squeezing the life right out of his body. An hour later, Ernest K. Seon was taken to a nearby hospital where he was pronounced dead. Official cause of death, quote, asphyxia by compression of the chest and neck while rear handcuffed and prone on the ground. Some news reports labeled Case a drug suspect. Police at the scene claim that, contrary to those eyewitness reports, Case ran when they tried to question a group of men and that he lifted one officer in the air and threw another against a fence and that he was, quote, a very dangerous man in a very dangerous situation. Three of those officers caught desk duty pending an investigation. The community rallied, and they weren't going to be quiet. They weren't going to let Rudy Giuliani tell them how to feel. Hundreds of Park Hill residents marched to Borough hall, candles in hand, and where they looked the NYPD in the eye, called them as they saw them, murderers. On the very same day as Ernest Case Sean's murder, all the way on the other side of the country in San Francisco, Method Man Raekwon and Ghostface Killa found themselves in the same prone position on the ground, face down, handcuffed, police boots on their backs. Unlike Case, they were lucky. Released after 45 minutes, their detainment chalked up to mistaken identity. But to Meth and the guys, just because they were members of the Wu Tang Clan didn't make them different from guys like Case. Case could have been any of them. Because when it came down to it, whether back on Staten island or out on the west coast, then they were all the same. Not artists, not musicians, not hip hop stars, not trailblazers. Breaking the mold and making history, all of that came second. First and foremost, they were all one targets. March 1997 Los Angeles, California. The dude wearing the blue bandana was paying tribute like the capos who walk into Michael Corleone's office at the end of the first golf godfather. Only they weren't in an office. They were inside a packed house of blues. Yo man, you Wu Tang are the realest. Method man had no allegiance to the Crips or to any west coast gang for that matter. But he accepted the compliment. I mean, the dude had a point. Wu Tang Clan ain't nothing to with. And those other New York dudes ran like the Crip continued, not yet you guys. Also true, Meth wasn't about to call Nas and Mobb Deep little. But they did beat feet back to New York after the went down. After Biggie Smalls took five bullets to the chest and abdomen at the Corner of Wilshire and South Fairfax. Guys scattered after that. The east coast crews who have been hanging out west for the Soul Train Awards suddenly caught that New York state of mind. But not mess and not we Wu Tang. As far as Wu Tang saw it, there was no East Coast west coast beef. Just like RZA didn't see beef between Park Hill and Stapleton projects back on Staten Island. It was all love. They knew that Biggie's motive to be on the COVID of Vibe magazine the year prior wasn't to promote some bullshit beef. Biggie just wanted to be on the COVID of Vibe, period. And he made it on the front of the biggest hip hop public application in the world, his man Puffy standing behind him. But there was a catch. The words east versus west were printed in a bold font to the left of his mug. It was all propaganda, media hype, narrative to sell magazines. Too many people took the east west thing seriously, believed it was actually a thing. This was the actual thing. Either you were cool or you weren't cool. It didn't matter what part of the country you lived in. So in early 1997, when it came time for the Klan to reconvene and record their second album, the follow up to the now platinum selling enter the Wu Tang 36 chambers, they didn't think twice about making the record in Los Angeles. And there were too many distractions at home. In New York, RZA booked time at a studio in North Hollywood. LA was going to be about focus, work and the occasional party, like Vibe magazine's Soul Train afterparty. The evening of March 8th, everyone was there. Wesley Snipes, Whitney Houston, Shaq. Biggie's new album, was about to drop, and his new single, hypnotized, got bodies moving. It was a night to remember. Hours later, it was a night to remember for all the wrong reasons. Because hours later, Biggie Smalls was dead. It was a tragedy. Not just the murder of the Notorious B.I.G. but the media circus that helped to inspire it. The media wasn't happy until they tasted blood. And now there was blood. It was all over their hands. Vibe magazine should have taken a bullet, not Biggie Smalls. Inside the House of Blues, Meth watched the Crip pull a pistol from his pocket. He took Meth's hand and pressed the heater in his palm. Go ahead, take it, he said. You're gonna need it. Nah, man, meth said, trying to hand the gun back. I'm good. The Crip was insistent and Meth looked around. The House of Blues was packed. He quickly lost count of how many pairs of eyes were on him. Maybe they weren't all looking at him, but it felt like it. The dudes rocking blue colors. The girls hoping to get up close and personal to a hip hop star. Silver spoon, la brats, wannabe MCs. And then there were the others. The ones who looked like they didn't quite belong. They were there and then they were gone. Amorphous faces, lack of affect, oblivious to the party raging all around them, focused solely on you. And they kept their distance. But they kept their eyes on you too. Eyes that were hidden behind Ray Bans. As soon as you made one of those guys, they disappeared like they'd never been there in the first place. Like your brain made them up. It was hard not to think about what had just happened to Biggie and wonder if these people were here watching you with more intent and more scrutiny because of what had happened. It was also easy to assume that it would only get worse. The Crip pushed the gun back into Meth's hand. Take it. He wasn't asking. Meth shook his head. He needed the crypt to understand. He appreciated the offer, the gesture. But he didn't want a gun. Not now, not ever. And not everyone in Wu Tang felt the same way. Like Method Man. Ghostface Killa knew that they were targets, that their lives were always in danger and always would be in danger, no matter how rich or how famous they became or how far they their past lives in the streets were behind them. Protect yout Neck wasn't just a buzzworthy line, it was a mantra. If ghosts carried a piece, that's what it was for. Protection. There were guys who wanted what you had that would do anything to take it. Dudes who loved Wu Tang but who would still jump any member of the group and rob their ass given the chance. And then there were the guys with grudges. Grudges held over from way back. The past is never dead. It's only sleeping. And later that same year, in 1997, the past woke up and hit back. Steubenville, Ohio, the town where RZA took the stand for attempted murder. Where Ghost took a bullet. And now the town where another man's body was bleeding out on the sidewalk, shot dead with a gun. A gun that, according to the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Tobacco and Firearms, was provided by a group of gun runners that went by the name Wu Tang Clan. I'm Jake Brennan and this episode of Disgraceland is to be continue. 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 [e-mail] if you're listening as a Disgraceland 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 and 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 disgracelandpod.com membership for details. Rate and review the show and follow us on Instagram, TikTok, Twitter and Facebook Disgracelandpod and on [e-mail] Disgracelandpod Rocka Rolla

[Capella University Narrator]

He's a bad, bad man.

[Ryan Seacrest]

Hey, it's Ryan Seacrest for Albertsons and Safeway. It's Stock Up Savings time now through March 31st. Spring in for storewide deals that earn four times the points. Look for in store tags to earn on eligible items from Lindor, Chips Ahoy, Gatorade, Post, Ziploc, and Zoa. Then clip the offer in the app for automatic event long savings. Stack up those rewards to save even more. Enjoy savings on top of savings when you shop in store or online for easy drive up and go, pick up or delivery restrictions apply. See website for full terms and conditions.

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