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Tupac Shakur Pt. 2: Life Behind Bars, Suge Knight Saves The Day, East Coast/West Coast Beef, and What Could Have Been
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Jake Brennan
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Find your personal dietitian@usenourish.com that's usenourish.com Disgraceland is a production of double ELV Tupac Shakur. His background, his beginning days as an artist, and the story of his fight to survive, the streets he came up on and the career he knew he was destined for is so complex that two episodes were needed to properly tell this story. If you're just getting hip to this now, I suggest you hit pause and go back to the last Episode of Disgraceland, Part one of the Tupac Shakur Story. Or if you're looking exclusively for a deep dive into the East Coast west coast beef between Tupac and the Notorious B.I.G. there is an entire episode dedicated to this subject. And both these artists from season one of Disgraceland, we get into their famous rivalry in this episode, but we also explore Tupac's time in prison, how it affected him, his time with Death Row Records, and the potential he had as an actor. We also, of course, get into the great music Tupac made specifically while signed to Death Row. Great music? Unlike that music I played for you at the top of the show, that wasn't great music. That was a preset loop for my melotron called mellow cosby sweater mk2. I played you that loop because I can't afford the rights to Fantasy by Mariah Carey. And why would I play you that specific slice of whistle register cheese could I afford it? Because that was the number one song in America on October 12, 1995. And that was the day Suge Knight sprung Tupac Shakur from prison, forever changing the course of hip hop in the young rapper's life. On this episode, an aborted prison sentence exported East Coast G Funk in Tupac Shakur. I'm Jake Brennan, and this is disgrace. Shooting two off duty police officers and getting away with it does something to a young man. The cops were racist and the cops were crooked and the justice system saw right through them. Tupac got off, the cops were drunk and carrying weapons stolen from the precinct evidence locker. The case was fucked. Tupac felt not only vindicated, he felt invincible. At least that's what he told her. At least that's what she remembered. It was so long ago, in such a crazy time. And who could really remember anyway? Memories have a way of taking their own shape after a while. A way of fitting whatever narrative makes most sense in the present. In the present, 2014 was a much different reality than 1993. The playlist found its way to Janet Jackson's Miss yous Much. She hated herself for liking it, because she hated Janet. Their rivalry on and off the charts was intense. But in the end, Janet was no match because she had no equals. Not on the charts, not on record, not on the screen, not in bed. Except when it came to her husband. He was her equality. He could go toe to toe with her, round for round. It's in part why she loved him so much. He was as big a personality and talent as she was. And he was creatively and emotionally mature enough to know better than to compete with her. Which is why she was genuinely proud of him tonight. A Kennedy center honor for him. The thug turned Academy Award winner turned philanthropist turned renowned artist, celebrated by the likes of President Barack Obama, no less. Janet Jackson could kiss her ass. And Quincy Jones, too, for that matter. The first rapper to receive a Kennedy center honor for his tremendous lifetime contribution to American arts. She'd be lying if she said she didn't secretly take some of the credit. She was his lucky star, after all. It was her idea for him to give up music and focus solely on acting. When they'd hooked back up, he was a mess. At the top of his game musically, but in debt and enslaved by his record contract. A contract held by a ruthless street thug. But now she couldn't help but laugh at the course of events that led to this moment. It was funny, she thought, how life can turn on a dime. One different move and the future consequences can be monumental. Life changing without you knowing it. In the moment. Even all of this. His career, his influence, his wealth, the Kennedy center honor. None of it likely would have come to be had she not paid him a visit in prison back in 95. And she almost never made the trip. At the time, their relationship was just a rumor. There was no Internet back then, at least not like there is now. The tabloids and paparazzi were vicious, sure, but the cult of celebrity wasn't the industry it has become. In the age of social media today, there would have been no way to keep the relationship secret and thus likely no way for her to visit him. But she figured it was worth the risk. She knew she loved him. She knew she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. But she also knew that if their celebrity couple status was made public, that the pressure of it all would destroy their relationship. Not because of her, but because she knew he wouldn't be able to handle it. He could hardly handle it in secret, never mind under the bright lights of the vicious tabloid media. So they arranged for her to make the visit to Dannemora, Upstate New York. Clinton Corrections Center. He was serving his sentence for sexual assault. A one and a half to four and a half year sentence depending on behavior. The conditions were awful. Rats, trash everywhere, disgusting food, racist guards, racist skinheads, gangs, sexual predators. He retreated into himself to pass the time 23 hours a day in solitary, he read Maya Angelou, Sun Tzu, Syd Field's book on how to write screenplays. He wrote one himself entitled Live to Tell. She couldn't help but think that her influence had a little something to do with that. She put the ugly trial behind her and tried to think about the man she knew. It was hard for her to imagine him doing what he was accused of doing. Sexually assaulting a young woman along with two others, sodomizing her against her will in a midtown hotel. He was convicted, sure, but as he exclaimed outside the courtroom, there was no evidence, no semen, no signs of forced entry. It was as confusing to her as it was to his fans. She had to see him and sort it all out for herself. Word was he was on the mend these days. His latest album had gone to number one while he was in jail, knocking off Bruce Springsteen. She was happy for him. What did she care? She already had a number one hit that year. He spent the last few weeks getting ready for her visit, working out, eating better. The guards were even excited. They spiffed the joint up, let him take an extra shower that day. When she arrived, she was treated like royalty. Well, as much of a royal treatment as a prison can provide. Their visit was brief but significant. She attempted to to impart whatever wisdom she had at her disposal. She tried to plant a seed, show him a way toward a different kind of success after prison, the type of career and celebrity that she had. It was possible, she told him, but there were rules. They were ridiculous and hypocritical, sure, but not following them had consequences. She could see it in his eyes. He was hearing her. She could also see innocence in his eyes. She believed him. And she impressed upon him to continue to work on his mind, to try and feed his soul with his creativity while on the inside. To keep the light from burning out, to not give in to anger and resentment. This would soon come to an end. His appeal would win out in court. Sure, he thought. But he couldn't help but wonder why she didn't just pony up the 1.4 mil in bail herself to spring him from his sentence while his appeal played out. It's not like she didn't have the bread. It was a test. He knew it. And she knew he knew it, too. Ride this out. Get your head right, do the time. Don't let it do you, and come out a better man. But it didn't quite happen that way. Foreign this episode is brought to you by 20th Century Studios. The AMATEUR when his wife is murdered, Charlie Heller, the CIA's most brilliant computer analyst, must trek across the globe and use his only weapon, his intelligence, to hunt down her killers and enact revenge. Starring Academy Awards award winner Rami Malek and Academy Award nominee Laurence Fishburne. The Amateur rated PG13 only in theaters April 11th. Hey discos, if you want more Disgraceland, be sure to listen every Thursday to our weekly After Party Bonus Episode where we dig deeper into the stories we tell in our full weekly episodes. In these After Party Bonus episodes, we dive into your voicemails and texts, emails and DMs and discuss your thoughts on the wildlives and behavior of the artists and entertainers that we're all obsessed with. So leave me a message at 617-906-6638, disgracelandpodmail.com orisgracelandpod on the socials and join the conversation every Thursday in our After Party Bonus episode. What makes a great pair of glasses? At Warby Parker, it's all the invisible extras without the extra cost. Their designer quality frames start at $95 including prescription lenses plus scratch resistant, smudge resistant and anti reflective coatings and UV protection and free adjustments for life. To find your next pair of glasses, sunglasses or contact lenses, or to find the Warby Parker store nearest you, head over to warbyparker.com that's warbyparker.com Tupac Shakur had the number one album in the country, Me against the World, aptly titled as he was alone in jail and broke. Despite his fame and celebrity stature, he was currently at rock bottom depressed. He missed his mother, Afini Shakur, the once proud Black Panther who was now living a life of squalor and heavily addicted to crack cocaine. He missed his girlfriend, the pop star who was living her celebrity life on the outside while he rotted away behind bars. He missed his old life, his boys, the parties, the girls, the shows. The feeling he got when he walked into a room, a studio or a club. The feeling that he was somebody. In here, he was just another shitbird. His loneliness turned to anger. Anger at not only having to serve time for something he felt he did not do, but anger over the fact that he felt betrayed. Betrayed by his friends. The shots came as soon as he entered the hallway at Quad Studios, five of them from the pair of 9 millimeters carried by the roughnecks shaking him down. They wanted his money and his jewels. Two shots to the head, two to the leg and groin, one to the hand. The shooters split after running Tupac's jewels and his cash. He crawled into the hallway elevator, got a bloody finger on the button and was lifted to the second floor studio. When the elevator doors opened, there was shock on the faces of his friends. Rapper the Notorious B.I.G. and his producer slash mogul on the make, Sean Puff Daddy Combs. Why were they surprised to see him? They'd just buzzed him into the front door of the Times Square building to come upstairs to the previously scheduled recording session to guest on a new single by Little Sean, a rising star of Big and Puffy's label, Bad Boy Records. At the time, the November 30, 1994 shooting was too much to handle for Tupac. It came right in the middle of his trial for sexual assault. He survived the five gunshots but had to be wheeled into court with fresh bullet wounds. The why of it all, the how and the who. He didn't have the brain space with all that was going on. To piece it together then, but now, behind bars with all the time in the world to think he'd figured it out. In a prison interview with Vibe magazine, Pac implied Biggie and Puff may have been involved in the attack, considering they were so shocked to see him. Possibly shocked to see him alive and not moving in to help even as he bled out in the studio waiting for an ambulance. The writer, who was familiar with Tupac, knew him from way back, would later remark that at the time of the interview, he no longer recognized him. He was a different person, far more aggressive, even angrier than his critics accused him of being. Prison changed him. He was broken, vulnerable. Something had to give, something had to change. Tupac was worried he wouldn't survive his sentence. And then he was saved from prison by Death Row. Suge Knight. The notorious Blood Street Gang affiliated record label Boss put up 1.4 million in bail to spring Tupac Shakur from jail while he awaited his appeal. In exchange for shifting Tupac's Interscope Records contract over to Suge's Interscope imprint, Death Row Records. In addition to the 1.4 million suge pledged to manage Tupac and to finance his lifestyle, his legal defense, and to even buy his mother a house in exchange for Tupac Shakur's next three records. Tupac came out of prison swinging. He was indeed a very different man. Emboldened by Suge Knight's millions in addition to his notorious street rep, Tupac dropped the gloves and as a semi free man on the outside, immediately began spouting off at the media who he believed betrayed him by convicting him in the public eye. Before he was able to get a fair trial, he shouted down the authorities who he believed betrayed their promise to uphold the law at his personal expense. And he doubled down on his claim that his friends Biggie Smalls and Puff Daddy had betrayed him as well, claiming in no uncertain terms that they were behind the shooting at Quad Studios. Biggie's track who Shot Ya, even though it was recorded before the shooting, enraged Tupac, who was convinced it was a diss track and aimed at him. The beef between the two larger than life rap stars was officially on. Tupac was battling his detractors and his enemies, and he was winning. His first piece of work with Death row was the Dr. Dre produced California Love, a banger that went to number one on the charts and firmly established Tupac, an East coast expat, as now being without a doubt property of the West Coast. Tupac's debut album with Death Row, All Eyes on Me, also hit number one on the back of subsequent singles another banger, how do youo Want It? And Two of America's Most Wanted. The video for the latter featured Death Row label mate Snoop Doggy Dog and included a parody scene of Pac meeting with Big and Puffy lookalikes and discussing the studio shooting. It further fueled the theory that they were involved. And then in the summer of 1995, Tupac released hit Em up, one of the most famous diss tracks ever, in which Pac talked shit about literally fucking Biggie's wife and made his accusations about the studio shooting clearer than ever, repeatedly calling out Biggie and Puff by name. Whatever the truth, the song drove in hard, driven by Tupac's bottomless rage over what had happened to him. The east coast west coast beef was in full flex with Tupac Shakur smack dab in the eye of the storm, right alongside his former friend the Notorious B.I.G. and with the notoriously cunning and violent Suge Knight riding shotgun. We'll be right back after this. Word, word, word. This episode is brought to you by State Farm. You might say all kinds of stuff when things go wrong, but these are the words you really need to remember. Like a good neighbor, State Farm is there. They've got options to fit your unique insurance needs, meaning you can talk to your agent to choose the coverage you need. Have coverage options to protect the things you value most, File a claim right on the State Farm mobile app, and even reach a real person when you need to talk to someone. Like a good neighbor, State Farm is there. Today AT T Mobile, I'm joined by a special co anchor. What up everybody? It's your boy Big Snoop Deal Double G Snoop. Where can people go to find great deals? Head to t mobile.com and get four iPhone 16s with Apple Intelligence on us plus four lines for 25 bucks. That's quite a deal Snoop and when you switch to T Mobile you can save versus the other big guys compared comparable plans plus streaming respect when we up out of here, see how you can save on wireless and streaming versus the other big guys@t mobile.com switch Apple Intelligence requires iOS 18.1 or later does it ever feel like you're a marketing professional just speaking into the void? Well, with LinkedIn ads you can know you're reaching the right decision makers. You can even target buyers by job title, industry, company seniority, skills. You wait, did I say job title yet? Get started today and see how you can avoid the void and reach the right buyers with LinkedIn ads. We'll even give you a $100 credit on your next campaign. Get started at LinkedIn.com results terms and conditions apply. The prosecuting attorney called Suge Knight a quote unquote one man crime wave. Suge wasn't worried. He'd beat the rap. The bulldog prosecutor was going for a max sentence. Suge, it was alleged, had pistol whipped a couple of no talent rappers who were getting too big for their Jordans. But Suge only got probation. The prosecutor's daughter, an aspiring singer, got a fifty thousand dollar record contract. And the prosecutor got a new tenant to rent a speech house for 19 grand a month. Shook Knight Death Row headquarters reflected the man who ran. It was intimidating. Painted blood red in homage of the LA street gang Suge Knight trucked with the Bloods. Death Row was not an ordinary record label. There were the armed guards, mountainous men, gang bangers who patted you down upon entry. There was the list, the one at the front door that the guards checked your name against. If your name wasn't on it, then you couldn't enter with your gun. And there was the Beatdown Room, a single room located inside the office space that was specifically for beatdowns should you or anyone else cross a death row employee or artists during the course of doing business. And of course, there were the stories. The Interscope employee who got choked out. The record promoter. The friend of Puffy's who was tied to a chair, beaten with champagne bottles and forced to drink urine. The rival record company employee who was stripped and forced to stroll naked through the office. The pool of blood that left the stubborn stain on the floor. And of course, there was intimidation through the constant threat of violence. Word around the record industry was that Suge Knight's reputation was so vicious, so intimidating, that vendors hired by the label neglected to chase down the money owed to them. Which isn't to suggest that Suge Knight or Death Row were cheap. They were anything but. Suge Knight. The notorious Bloodstreak gang affiliated record label boss, put up 1.4 million in bail to spring Tupac Shakur from jail while he awaited his appeal in exchange for shifting Tupac's Interscope Records contract over to Suge's Interscope imprint, Death Row Records. In addition to the 1.4 million, Suge pledged to manage Tupac and to finance his lifestyle, his legal defense, and to even buy his mother a house in exchange for Tupac Shakur's next three records. But when it came time to pay out the cash Tupac needed to settle the many legal suits filed against him. Death Row's attorney, the same entertainment attorney Tupac agreed to have represent him as part of his Death Row contract. Suge Knight's attorney, David Kenner, was notoriously slow in making payments. Regardless after prison, Tupac Shakur's entire life was financed by Death Row Records. The label estimated Tupac owed them $4.9 million in returned. But Death Row had generated $60 million in record sales off of Tupac Records since his prison release. That left a balance of $55.1 million. Where was the money? Sure, Death Row, as financiers, producers, manufacturers, promoters and distributors of those records, was entitled to its cut of the revenue, as was their parent company, Interscope Records. But where was the rest of it? There was a rumor circulating that Suge Knight was in debt to the Mafia. For what? The rumor didn't specify. And Suge's attorney publicly denied the rumor along with most every other allegation against his client. But one thing was certain. According to Tupac's other attorney, his criminal attorney, Charles Ogletree, Tupac was plotting his life after Death Row. He made inquiries to Warner Brothers Records. Legally, Tupac was now free to go his own way after delivering his third album to Death Row, his final obligation per his contract. But surviving after walking away from Death Row was a different story entirely. Tupac had another obligation to fulfill. He promised he'd accompany Suge Knight to the Mike Tyson fight in Las Vegas. At this time, the wounds are life threatening, but they're life threatening. The person, as you're already aware, who was the passenger in his vehicle is a known rap performer by the name of Tupac Shakir. Tupac Shakira. This is a man in mourning. His pain as visible as if it were written on his face. Police say a white sad leg pulled up next to it and the four men inside started shooting. They were already taking, which now I found out was Tupac. Into the helicopter, Shakur shot several times in the chest. Some rappers agree, saying the only way to make things better is to get hip hop back to its original state before the advent of lyrics that glorified death and violence. The memory of Imdon's turbulent life and violent death can't be erased through re mind, but perhaps eased by the knowledge that Tupac before death is serving a larger purpose, one so big that we shouldn't turn down Sunday to remember him and to use his death as a turning point. We need to learn to love with ourselves. We need to learn to respect ourselves. We need to learn to respect our women. Until we do that, we're never going to learn to rise above anything from the shower was now infiltrating the rest of the hotel suite. Her husband had been in there for a while, taking his time. The playlist had ended. It was now 90s hip hop. Warren G's regulate flowed out of the speakers. By now she'd figured out the maddening Bluetooth situation. The track sounded so good. Say what you will about Death Row Records, they released some great music and he brazenly walked out on it all. His debt, his contract, his master recordings. Told his record label boss they could have him, use him to recoup whatever he owed. Use them to enrich themselves off of his art for the rest of their lives for all he cared. Do whatever they want. With them. He was out. All he wanted was his freedom. No more looking over his shoulder, no more shootings. She convinced him to bet on himself and focus solely on acting, a world she herself never quite conquered like she did the world of music. First he'd have to drop the thug life Persona, work some supporting roles in a few big budget studio flicks prove he could show up, put in work, be a professional. At the same time, bang out a couple of indie flicks, turn in stellar performances showcasing his deep acting chops and proved both up and coming and established directors alike that he still did indeed have the goods. His megawatt big screen charisma would take care of the rest. And it did. Soon the choice roles started rolling in. Columbia Pictures came calling in the early 2000s, when Will Smith backed out of Men in Black 2, her husband stepped into the role of Agent J and injected a level of emotional resonance that took the entire franchise from being a rote popcorn blockbuster to a critically acclaimed special effects comedic drama that to this day, as far as movies go, is rivaled only by the Star wars franchise and its modern day cultural influence. After starring opposite Tommy Lee Jones, who they both still counted as a dear friend, her husband took the lead role in Steven Spielberg's War of the Worlds. It was another critically acclaimed blockbuster. Her husband was now one of the few stars in the history of Hollywood whose studios could bank on for the highest grossing films that were as successful commercially as they were critically as an acting talent. His reputation was approaching the likes of Marlon Brando, Julia Roberts and Christian Bale. Rare Air. In 2012, he starred in the title role of Django in Quentin Tarantino's Django Unchained. He took home the best actor Oscar for that one. And the collaboration between the two men was such a successful that they were both currently obsessed and hard at work on their next collaboration, a superhero film adaptation of the Marvel comic Black Panther. A film Quentin would direct and her husband would star in and bring his life's work full circle back to his first love, his mama. So strong was her husband's Hollywood career turnaround that it became the model for another young talent who'd fallen from Grace, Robert Daniel Jr. Who himself had climbed back to the top in similar fashion and was comfortably positioned at the top of his own superhero franchise. Her husband's success never jaded him. He gave back every step of the way, establishing arts centers in black neighborhoods, funding charter schools, mentoring young black talent and contributing to political and social causes. He believed in putting his money where his famous big mouth was. He established a black talent union, pooled the collective power of his peers in Hollywood, and negotiated not only better pay, but better opportunities. As a result. The Academy Awards, once known for its bias toward white nominees, was now truly integrated on merit and is the envy of other award shows as well as the international film industry. Her husband was out of the shower now, half drying off, half listening to his longtime friend Jada Pinkett Smith on the other end of the telephone. She'd called under the auspices of congratulating him, but no doubt by now the conversation had likely turned to Jada griping about her husband Will's career. Could he help get him sorted out with a comeback role? That sort of thing. She knew her husband was a sucker for Jada. He'd do anything for her. He'd figure it out. And if not, she would help him figure it out, just like she did when he was in prison. Except that never happened. She never made it up to Dannemora, to Clinton Correctional Facility. It was all a fantasy. A fantasy she indulged in often. What if? What if she did make the trip? What if she did lay down an alternate path? What if he did listen to her? What if he didn't sign on with Death Row? Or what if he walked away from Death Row before going to Vegas on that night? Would it be any different? Would he still be alive? Rumors. More rumors that he faked his death. That he was still alive, living off some island with Rihanna or whoever. Unreal. Tacky fan fiction. Truth was, he still was among the living. Truth was Tupac Shakur was and still is very much alive. He survived. Turn on your television, open up your web browser, thumb through any history of hip hop pop, open Spotify, tune into your local Hot 100 radio station. Tupac Shakur can be heard and seen everywhere. Such is the power of his music, his acting, his legacy. He will live forever, just not in the way that she wanted. And that is a disgrace. I'm Jake Brennan and this is Disgraceland. Disgraceland was created by yours truly and is produced in partnership with dollar Double Elvis. Credits for this episode can be found on the show notes page@gracelandpod.com 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 Ad Free. Plus you'll get one brand new exclusive episode every month, 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 YouTube@YouTube.com Disgracelandpod Rocka Rolla He's a bad, bad man.