A Hustler's Dream I

First off, I would like to give thanks to the Father for giving me the gift of life and all that follows.

I’d like to thank everybody that influenced my story and a special Thank You goes out to Norma and Nancy Stevens, Nikkia Moon, Toya Thornton, Tracey Willis, Marquet Watkins, Jeffrey Wooten and Antoine Robinson for your part in bringing this masterpiece to fruition.

Foreword By Don Twan

As a self-proclaimed hip hop connoisseur, I, Don Twan, have been enthralled with the hip hop culture since I was a child. Hip hop is a culture that was once birthed from an inner city community just like the one I was raised in. Having grown up inside an era filled with so much charisma and international influence, it was no surprise that hip hop’s artists would have such a strong impact on my life. From the Boogie Down Bronx of New York to the notorious streets of Compton, California, hip hop communities in America and abroad watched as street poets brought the ins and outs of their environments--raw reporters giving us the ghetto news.

We watched as the rise of this industry brought us face to face with incredible success stories. Soon the voices of hip hop could be heard depicting exotic tales masterfully crafted from artists across the U.S. These men and women would bring their gifted messages to all of us while finding fame and fortune in the process. This would soon open doors for others who would find their way into the industry, mastering both the art and the business. Unknowingly, they were carving out paths that others would follow in the years to come. Hip hop-bred hood entrepreneurs.

Vinyl records, tapes, mix tapes, CDs and mix CDs would be the new products being pushed to eagerly waiting fans who would fiend for that next satisfying hit. The rise of independently owned labels and indestructible crews led by platinum-selling artists became the new thing. Money and power fueled brand-named rappers to collide--as beef was born--with us fans cheering for the teams we formed alliances with. Most of the time we never really knew the real deal behind the animosity our favorite artists had with their opposition. And to be honest, we couldn’t be sure if the beef was authentic or simply something staged to promote record sales. All we knew was that we were interested, and it made for the best entertainment money could buy.

I found myself after years of being hooked on hip hop following the culture all over the nation; I really enjoyed what each region had to offer. But it was in the south where I became acquainted with a city that showcased a plethora of acts, all unique in their own way. This place soon became recognized as the mecca of hip hop for the bottom of the map: Atlanta, Georgia.

From Outkast to Goodie Mob and from Ludacris to T.I., I witnessed laid back rap and snap and was soon put up on new terminology describing the drug-infested communities and the activities of the dealers in them. They called it Trap Musik.

Atlanta became the one-stop-shop for hip hop heads to get a variety of flavors. The city had grown so successful in the business of music that even major companies and our favorite artists began relocating to be closer to the action. Atlanta was on fire and us as fans were basking in its warmth.

One act in particular that made me a true believer in this interesting city came by the way of an independent label by the name of Block Entertainment. Though I had been acquainted with the Organized Noizes and the So So Defs of The ATL, Block Entertainment stood out as unique because it gained the co-sign from a music mogul out of New York. Bad Boy Records’ CEO Sean P. Diddy Combs attached himself to this company, and to me, this was incredible as it happened at a time when most East Coasters were expressing their distaste for the Southern sound. But Mr. Combs, being the true visionary he is, saw the potential in this label and placed his star power behind it, a move that would prove to be ingenious.

Block Entertainment CEO Russell Big Block Spencer would release a group bearing a name inner city fans worldwide already associated as legendary: Boys N Da Hood. The name alone went platinum in our minds and the artists had the look and street cred needed to carry the moniker in an appropriate manner. By the time their first single, Dem Boys, was released, their sound proved worth the praise, as the group brought us that heat we’d been waiting for. Mr. Combs was the shit, Big Block had a hit, and we fans were getting high off their venture via a new division called Bad Boy South. The ATL had done it again!

With the pendulum and momentum swinging in his favor, Big Block rode the high waves and made it his business to capitalize off his new found success. We fans sat and watched as he seemingly dug into his bag of tricks and Poof, out of nowhere, produced yet another hit artist, one who would end up surpassing the success of his initial super group. Big Block hooked up with Chauncey Chino Dolla Stevens, the CEO of MasterMind Music, to form a joint venture that introduced us to a charismatic rapper by the name of Yung Joc armed with the hit single, It’s Going Down, and a signature body rock dance move. America watched as actors such as Tom Cruise got a fix of the Joc Mania invading the mainstream airwaves. Then, to show that this new artist wasn’t a one hit wonder, MasterMind and Block Entertainment released Joc’s second single titled, I Know U See It. This also reached Number 1 on the charts, propelling the Joc brand to immediate platinum status.

The nation relished. There was a new face in Atlanta. Big Block and his company were an instant fixture in the industry, Diddy was praised for believing, and everyone was laughing their way to the bank. Then . . . it all came crumbling down.

Like I said, I pride myself as a lover of hip hop. It is my generation. I feel like hip hop and I are family. So when things transpire within it, I find that I become very concerned, wanting to know what’s taking place inside a world I have grown to love. As fans, when tragedy strikes amongst the artists we’ve supported, we sometimes are treated like children in a household that becomes divided by two parents. We become confused over split ups, and in the end, we are left out in the cold, torn and ignorant to what caused the problems in the first place.

This collaboration between Chino Dolla and me transpired when my partner, Kevin K Money McGee, introduced us. Being from California, I couldn’t resist asking Chino all the questions I had relating to Hotlanta, his road to success, the truth about Joc’s hiatus, and the issues of beef between the city’s artists. I felt like if anyone was credible enough to speak on these issues, Chino was because I’d heard his name mentioned in a few ATL rappers’ songs.

I heard Young Jeezy shout him out on his song, Don’t Do It. Yung Joc says in his song, Patron, Ask Chino Dolla about dat dope-boy magic. Then Shawty Lo has a line in his song, Dun Dun, where he says Ask Chino, he know. And that’s just what I did . . . ask Chino. After all my questions were asked, here’s what Chino Dolla had to say.

Prologue

Flash Back

I can remember it like it was yesterday . . . .

It was two in the morning. While most were asleep, I, on the other hand, was wide awake, maneuvering through Atlanta’s underworld with the nightlife. My Yukon Denali’s cotton candy pearl paint job glistened from the fluorescent street lights. Speeding, I wheeled my 24-inch Elite rims in and out of traffic. I was a man on a mission, focused and in a zone. With my stereo system off, I fixed my mind quietly on the business at hand. I knew sleep wasn’t an option until I’d done what I set out to do. This came with the territory. This was the life I had chosen to live.

My mental GPS had me bending corners out of memory. Eager to get to where I was going, I accelerated to the expressway, pushing 75/85 North until I reached my exit in downtown Atlanta. The lights of the city illuminated before me, spurring me to push on. The streets and intersections were a blur until I came to the side street I had been in search of. Once there, I made a right, slowing my vehicle to around 15 MPH. I was almost there.

The dark road was pitch black to the naked eye. Such a street would appear to an out-of-towner as a dangerous one. But for me there was no cause for concern. I held off my high beams for a more discreet approach. Blindly, I reached over to feel for my prized possession. Finding its square form on the seat next to me, I smiled and nodded, knowing I had exactly what the streets were craving.

I crept forward, keeping my eyes open until I came to a few parked cars that were pulled to the side of the road. Inching past them I came to the black wrought iron fence that surrounded the property I was looking for. I knew that despite how gloomy and dark it appeared to be, once I arrived, the whole atmosphere would change. Motivated by the vision I committed myself to, I wheeled onto the property, pulling past the fence. That’s when the scene came into view.

Lamborghinis, Rolls Royces, Bentleys, Cadillac trucks, Corvettes, Maseratis and old school classics sitting on designer rims, were parked out front of an establishment that catered to anyone looking to have the time of their life. The neon pink sign shone brightly across the building, flashing a name the city had co-signed as one of the hottest clubs around: BODY TAP. It was the place to be on that Wednesday night, and it seemed no one had plans on being left out.

Lines at the front and the side were both filled with Atlanta’s finest hustlers and women. I steered my truck toward the valet parking out front, hoping that a space was available. By the looks of it, the place was filled up. Noticing a space, I pulled to an attendant while catching a lot of glances.

Yo, Chino! I heard someone say. I looked to my left and saw a familiar face I had no name for. I just gave back a nod and chunked da deuces.

A valet approached my driver’s side. Moving fast, I snatched up my package and tucked it inside my lite leather jacket. Park me out front, I told him as I hopped out into the cool morning air. Already knowing the cost was steeper to park where I requested, I quickly dished the young guy two twenties and kept it moving.

Being that I was making business rounds, I wasn’t dressed for clubbing but my nondescript all-black outfit helped me to blend in just fine. The only thing that stood out as flashy was the gold and diamond chain I wore around my neck. My initials, C.S., dangled from it. The night, combined with my black shirt, set the diamonds at my neck and chest to sparkle like the moonlight does on ocean waves.

Now look, Atlanta’s club scene is like no other place. Seven days a week you can find a club jumping like it was the weekend. ATLiens party hard and live life freely. That night was no different as they looked to relax and enjoy themselves until the sun came up. I, on the other hand, had my sights set on bigger and better things. Partying would come later.

I made my way to the front door, the entrance for the VIP section of the club. On my way I encountered a few hustlers I knew. Cats who on other occasions I had done business with.

Dolla, what’s hap’nin, one dude from Decatur asked.

Same ol’, I replied, reaching out giving him and his crew some dap.

Holla at me, he said. I got that purp on file.

I thought to myself, that’s a true Atlanta nigga for you. Always hustlin’. I told him I would, but some other time. Like I said, the partying would come later. As soon as I parted ways with them, I ran across a few more people, who I acknowledged before making it to the door.

I tripped on how all my grinding had me in the acquaintance of so many people on different levels. From street hustlers to business owners, I knew all those who I might need down this path I had chosen. So when I came through the entrance, the guy working the admission booth recognized me immediately, showing me some love for coming out.

Yo Chino! he said with a smile. Another larger guy was pat searching some dude who came in before me.

What’s up big dog, I replied. Then I gave him a quick head gesture toward the club. Is X-Rated still in?

He had a knowing look on his face. Yeah, he’s back there.

Perfect, I thought. I had already removed the admission fee from my pocket and was about to hand it over when I heard a sweet voice call out from beyond the VIP’s entrance.

I got him.

Immediately I recognized who it was. Though I was on business, I couldn’t help but spread a charismatic smile across my face as I turned and faced one of the baddest women in Atlanta. What’s up Tasha? I asked.

Standing with one hand on a curvaceous hip, she said, You.

I just shook my head and smiled even wider. You see, Tasha and I went back all the way to high school, where we had a short-lived fling.

At 5 feet 3 inches, 135 lbs., baring a 36-26-42-inch frame, Tasha’s red-boned complexion set off features worthy of the title Georgia Peach. I’m telling you, the women in Atlanta come in all shapes, colors and sizes. They pride themselves on keeping their appearance up and flaunting fat asses and thick thighs. Tasha was no different.

I told the cat working the booth to stay up and approached Tasha, who in turn led the way inside the club.

How’ve you been? I asked.

Dressed in a pair of form fitting shorts and a low-cut tee that showed off her belly button, Tasha looked from under her eyelashes at me and said, Fine. How ‘bout ya’self?

I shrugged. You know me, trying to get to da money.

Being that I rarely found occasions to relax and was always working, Body Tap to me was a good place to unwind. The atmosphere was festive and the women were turned up to the max. Although it was a spot that showcased fully exposed women, Tasha on the other hand, worked as a hostess and waitress, opting for a more discreet role.

As I watched her walk slightly ahead of me, I couldn’t help but notice the fullness of her round ass cheeks. She turned her head catching me admiring her.

So Chino, you drinking tonight?

Busted, I looked away shyly. My usual, Rosé and O.J. and a Henn and Coke for X-Rated, that’s where I’ll be.

She just laughed, continuing to stride with an extra twist in her hips, making her way to the bar.

In VIP, like always, it was full of girls with fat asses and titties everywhere. Some were dressed in sexy lingerie, thongs and other lace accessories. Others strolled around in nothing but high heels and garter belts stuffed with dollar bills. All of them smiling and catering to the clientele. Everybody was having a good time as the bass from Young Jeezy’s hood anthem, Trap or Die, vibrated throughout the club. Despite my urge to settle in, I knew I could not be detoured until my mission was complete.

Now this is how Body Tap is set up: as soon as you enter the VIP entrance, the bar is straight ahead, and halls are at your right and left. The hall to the left has independent VIP rooms overlooking the dance floor and common areas on the 1st floor. The right holds rooms and the place I was to meet my man X. So without hesitating, I made off in that direction with anticipation urging my steps.

Women whose naked jiggling assets bounced and swayed as they brushed passed me barely got a glance as I followed the hallway to its end. I knew X would be at his station doing exactly what he did night in and out: keeping the spot crunk for all the partygoers. See, my boy X-Rated is a well-known DJ in the A, and for me and many others, he was someone directly tied to the underground scene. For those in my line of work, he was a need to know man, and I was glad that I knew him first hand.

As I came to a door on the left hand side of the hallway, despite the music, I gave two quick knocks.

Come in, he yelled over the music.

As soon as I opened the door, X greeted me with a warm welcome. With his headphones on top of his head, he stepped away from his perch at his turntables and embraced me in a half-hug.

Dolla! Damn nigga, it took you long enough!

Dawg, I pushed straight here after I called, I replied. He nodded. So you got it?

Wasting no time, I reached inside my jacket and removed the package. You know it. Hot off the press.

Right then we heard the door crack open only to see Tasha’s head peek in.

Hey ya’ll. I got ya’ll drinks.

Both startled, X and I thanked her. Before she left, I made it a point to tell her I’d holler at her after I was done. She assured me she’d be waiting.

Well, my good friend said to me, ain’t no need in fuckin’ ‘round. Let’s see what ‘chu workin’ wit Shawty.

Without delay, I handed it over to him.

You ready? X could see I was a bit nervous. I can’t lie, I was anxious. I knew that the track on the CD was fire, but like a proud parent, I only wished for it to succeed.

It’s now or never, I said, shaking my apprehension. Let’s do it.

The man who had helped so many local artists in the city to break their first single looked at me and said, That’s what I’m talking about.

I stood and watched as he placed his headphones back over his ears before returning to his turntables. Then, removing the CD I had given him from its case, he placed my product into his system. Before hitting the button to start my CD, he masterfully brought the song already playing to a cold mix. He performed his magic, hit a button and then finally brought in the intro Nitti had finally settled on, a childlike voice that would later become his signature.

This ‘ah Nitti Beat!

The opening came. No snare, no bass line. Just the simple melody Nitti had done on his keyboard. Its repetitive sound had X completely consumed. I stepped beside him, nerves jittery as I looked out of his booth and onto the scenery beneath us. People were bobbing their heads, which told me it had caught a few ears. Then, after eight smooth bars with Nitti talking, the beat dropped.

On cue, Joc’s lyrical cadence came in as he began to rap about our everyday life in the A. With undeniable force, the bass line took control over everyone at the same time. In a flash, men and women began rushing the dance floor feeling the vibe. I looked and saw strippers getting into it, wiggling and working their respective poles to the intoxicating beat. The scene captivated me as I stood admiring the reaction. This went on as the rhythm and rhyme carried the party to another level. Then as the first verse ended, the intensity amplified just as Joc brought the hook in.

…Meet me in the Traap, its going down…Meet me in the cluuub, it’s going down…Meet me at the maaall, it’s going down. Anywhere you meet me, guaranteed to go down!

At this point, cats who had been playing the wall and huddled in their personal entourages, all of a sudden made way over to where one chick bounced up and down making her ass clap over the sound of the music. Big money ballers from the city, decked out in platinum and ice, bounced back and forth, making it rain to Joc’s tale of poppin’ tags and reppin’ College Park

X Rated turned and looked at me as if to say he approved. Without saying a word, he proceeded to fire up a loud stick of Cush, filling the booth with an exotic fragrance.

Ya’ll got a hit Chino! I know one when I hear it Shawty. They feelin’ it. I’m telling you, this the one.

After a couple hits of the good green, he passed it to me. I filled my lungs before exhaling a cloud of smoke while looking at the reaction the song was having on the crowd below us. My crew and I had put in a lot of hard work. And with all the steps backwards I’d taken up to this point, I knew I was now one step closer to something great. I was beginning to feel good about not giving up. I was headed in a direction I knew my grandmother would be proud of.

Present Day

When I finished telling my boy K-Money and his roommate, Don Twan, the quick version of what happened to me and Yung Joc, how I had come so far blowing him up and then ending up sitting right there with them, they looked at me like I was crazy as hell.

Silence passed between us as the uncommonly cold California winter breeze tore into our jackets. After a few seconds K-Money looked deeper into my eyes.

After all your investments? After all you had gone through? Block did you like that? K-Money asked like he couldn’t believe what I had just told them.

I just nodded my head. I knew that K-Money could relate to the game that Block was running on me, because of the years he had in the music business himself.

So is that why Joc hasn’t been making any real noise? Because his real team ain’t riding with him? Don Twan asked me next.

Basically, I explained. You gotta remember that whatever formula got you to the top, you never change it unless it’s broke.

Or you find something better, K-Money offered. But, which in his case, he didn’t.

Why you look’n like you’re confused about something? noticing that Don Twan was disturbed by something.

Because I am, Chino, Don Twan said, his eyebrows drawn in deep contemplation. Dog, tell me why, after all you’d accomplished, did you still manage to end up living in one of the most dangerous places on da map?

Just like I thought . . . .

At that moment I broke eye contact, turning my head in the direction of some dirt hills rolling off into the city of Adelanto. Don Twan’s question was one I had asked myself a thousand times. And every time I sought a realistic answer, I always managed to come up with the same outlook.

In order for you to understand, I began. I gotta give you the whole story. Not only about when I started messing with Joc, but from the beginning. You gotta understand Atlanta and the streets. You gotta see my life through my eyes and understand why I was so determined to make it to that level in the game. You gotta see how one mistake can pull any person down, no matter how high they are.

Alright, you got me, Don Twan said, intrigued. B’cause I wanna know.

Yeah, me too, said K-Money in his signature cool tone, while making like he was checking a watch on his wrist. Shit, we ain’t got nothing but time.

Maybe this is what I needed, I thought to myself. Maybe I need to get all of it off my chest. To tell it how I saw my life. Maybe, just maybe, it would help me find some answers to questions lying hidden deep down inside of me. Something like . . . therapy.

And being that it was two full hours before we got off work and parted ways, I went ahead and took Don Twan and Money on a journey through my life.

Tour of Atlanta

Atlanta. It’s not like other cities you’ve heard about in the world of hip hop. It’s not a place where you can just walk inside some office, pass off a demo, and get a record deal. It’s a place where the streets choose their stars. You gotta put your work in, hustle and grind your way into the heart of the streets. This is the kind of dedication that enabled some of my favorite acts like MC Shy D, Kilo, DJ Keezy Rock, DJ Smurf, Raheem the Dream, Playa Poncho, Hitman Sammy Sam, Damage, and the A-Town Hardboys to become successful early in Atlanta’s hip hop scene, laying the foundation.

Hustling from the ground up was all we had. I know right now it seems like all the major labels are focusing on us, but it wasn’t always like that. Back in the day, we didn’t have the big company record execs breaking their backs to get us national exposure. Yeah, Atlanta hosted the Jack the Rapper convention in the early 90’s, where you could see the likes of 2Pac and many others. We also had Jermaine Dupree and his So So Def camp in College Park. JD was crushing the game with his group Kris Kross and their single, Jump-Jump, and the first platinum selling female rapper, Da Brat, and her hit, Funkda’fied. He was most definitely seeing success. But we in the streets didn’t think it was possible to be a part of the industry. In JD’s case, we didn’t see his hustle coming from the ground up. We felt like his father, who had already been in the business, had set him up for success.

For us street hustlers, all we had was an underground networking system-people who may have known somebody who might be able to get our music heard in the streets. People like Atlanta’s V-103 radio personality Ryan Cameron and pioneer DJ Greg Street. He helped to break a lot of hit records for our local artists. This is what we worked with for a long time. Grinding until one of us broke, changing the game in Atlanta’s rap scene forever.

When a guy named Rico Wade, and his production company, Organized Noize, including Sleepy Brown and Ray Murray, took a local group called Outkast from the Dungeon to the world, he sparked hope in every young ATLien from Zone 1 to Zone 6, from College Park to Decatur. Every one of us, who had dreams of one day being an M.C. or owner of a label, was now burning inside. Even though Sleepy Brown’s dad was a musician, we saw a group of guys straight out of the hood, like us, who made it.

In our minds, everything seemed that much more possible. The success we saw by cats like Outkast became our dream. Our goal became to grind and present good music to a city filled with millions of people, creating a buzz and hoping to get a major label’s support. We knew that if the city backed us, we would have the promotion we needed to make it to the top. Atlanta’s culture of supporting its own is historic, and its market for hip hop and R&B was like a reservoir of untapped oil. And we were like drillers looking to get rich.

I provided this map to give you an overall view of the cities and counties that will be mentioned throughout this book. I feel it’s important for you to have something to refer to in order to see the fullness of the journey I traveled in my city.

Now, as you’ve seen in the map provided, Atlanta is not geographically designed like your average city. It is split up into different counties, each with its own cities, all combining to make Metro Atlanta.

This is one of the reasons why you hear so many different artists reppin’ different spots, yet still acknowledging Atlanta. Another thing rappers are likely to do is call out the Zone in which they live. The city of ATL is broken up by The Atlanta Police Department into zones numbered 1 thru 6. Here are the locations of those zones and a list of the most common hoods you hear artists reppin’.

Zone 1: Bankhead, Bankhead Courts, Bowen Homes, Herndon Homes, M.L.K., The Bluff, 5th Ward, Simpson Rd., West End, Ashby and Cascade Road

Zone 3: Inglewood, Capital Homes, Summerhill, Mechanicsville, Boulevard, Cleveland Rd., Jonesboro South, Thomasville, Four Seasons, Grady Homes, Techwood, Carver Homes, Pittsburg Community, and Dill Avenue.

Zone 4: Adamsville, Ben Hill, Campbellton Road, East Point, Fulton Industrial Boulevard (F.I.B.), and SWATS.

Zone 6: (East Atlanta) Moreland Avenue, Sun Valley, Kirkwood, Edgewood, Flat Shoals, Eastlake, The Hamp, Gresham Road and Boulevard.

So, as you can see, there are a lot of areas in the city. This is how you might have one rapper in the A screaming Zone 1 Bankhead and another yelling the same thing, cases like in the Shawty Lo/T.I. situation where one of them lives in one hood and the other in another hood, yet they live in the same zone, causing one not to know the other. To the hip hop community it may look like one is an imposter when that’s not the case. Both are from Bankhead so it must be two sides!

Ever since I can remember, Atlanta has been a party city. A place filled with an abundance of soul in our older folks and an extreme amount of energy in our youth. One way I can recall my generation exhibiting this is in my high school years with the dance crews. When I say the dance crews in Atlanta were and are a strong influence on the city’s lifestyle, I mean it.

Fraternities and sororities of the historically black colleges of the AUC influenced Atlanta’s high school dance through steppin’. Many college chapters existed in a junior form at many schools, and steppin’ presented another platform for individuals to perform and compete.

On that note, you also might not know, but a lot of artists got their start loving hip hop because they were a part of one of these crews. These crews lived and breathed dance moves and routines. They would hang out at spots like skating rinks because that was the thing to do. Places like Jelly Beans, Skate Town, Screaming Wheels, Sparkles and Golden Glide were the hottest around. These crews would show up and break out with their newest moves, captivating the crowd or leaving horribly embarrassed. The Bankhead Bounce, The Ragtop, A-Town Stomp, The Muscle, all these dance moves were started by these types of crews.

You will also see instances where dance moves gained exposure through our rappers like in D4L’s case (Laffy Taffy), Dem Franchise Boys (Lean Wit It, Rock Wit It), Yung Joc (Motorcycle), and Soulja Boy (Superman). All these are mirror images of the vibe our city has, a vibe that seemed to resonate with others all around the world.

Many had their first experience with Atlanta through the yearly festival FreakNik. Now only a memory, FreakNik would attract people from all over the U.S., and the world, who would come to partake in Atlanta’s all-out partying, from the nation’s small-time hustlers, to the mega-stars of that time. People of all races would come and rub elbows in one festive spirit. FreakNik will always be a keynote in Atlanta’s history. The city has a large population that came during this time and to this day never left.

Another thing we’ve been known for is our strip clubs and regular clubs. You know (or heard of), Magic City and 112. But what some of you don’t know about is the older clubs like Charles’s, The Lamp Post, Silver Fox, Nightlife and Club Nikki’s. These were prime spots that would set up platforms for our pioneer artists to become famous in the city.

The club scene also paved the way for our DJs. With our love for dancing, the DJs would provide high-energy tracks laced with gritty sounds for us to dance to. DJs like Edwards J and his mixed tapes inspired movements that brought about DJs like E-Z Rock and DJ Smurf (now known as Mr. ColliPark). Others such as Big Oomp and his Southern Style DJs (including two legendary DJs from Atlanta, DJ Jelly and DJ Montay) joined the ranks adding to the underground sound to be spread. The movement went on to create DJ coalitions like The Legion of Doom DJs, DJ Drama and The Affiliates, The Hitmen DJs, the Core DJs, the Super Friends and the So So Def DJs. All these are a result of how Atlanta evolved musically.

Back in the day, I would go out to some of our local clubs in my era like The Gate, Sharon’s Showcase, 710, 321, The Gentlemen’s Club, Atlanta Live, Illusions, The Bounce and 559. I would watch artists from other cities come in and perform. People like Uncle Luke, Master P, 8 Ball & MJG, Three 6 Mafia, and Cash Money would come, and I would realize how much of a major factor Atlanta was in blowing up their careers. I began thinking about how Atlanta’s own needed to be on those stages, getting a piece of a pie others were eating off of. And I was on to something because no sooner than I noticed this, others in my city started making their own moves, transforming their games to be MCs.

Homegrown MCs and labels like T-Roc, A-Town Playas, The Corleone Family, The Diablos, Manish Man, A Dam Shame, Ghetto Mafia, D Money Records, Big Cat Records, and The City Boys though some of these are not names known to the world, these groups and MCs had a major impact on Atlanta. These are local legends who helped create lanes with some of the well-known labels and MCs such as Pastor Troy, So So Def, Grand Hustle, Ghetto Visions, Organized Noize, DJ Toomp, C.T.E., D.T.P., Attic Crew, Jim Crow, BME, Noon Time, Konvict Music, Bricksquad, Sho’nuff, Zone 4, Mr. ColliPark, OutKast, and Big Boi’s Purple Ribbon label, Goodie Mob, Big Oomp, Rasheeda, Rocko, Duct Tape, Block Ent., MasterMind Music, and many others. With their work, now The ATL has become a place where hip hop lives and gives our youth a chance to achieve their musical dreams.

Most of these MCs and labels were built as products of our environment. They were molded by figures that influenced what we have today. Behind all the glitz and glamour and behind many of the artists’ careers, there was always someone who helped to guide or finance them at their start, someone whose role might have been small but who was a big, key factor in their success, someone who had faith in the talent they saw and who wanted to assist in making these local acts’ dreams come true. People who also helped guide the direction of the city, and who had a hand in sculpting Atlanta into the place it is now; in other words, the underworld. Some of these individuals you may never get a chance to hear about in no other place but in this story.

I am one of those individuals. I existed in this underworld, with the unknowns, pushing and promoting the artist Yung Joc, Gorilla Zoe as well as many others. And like the other unseen hands, I aided in the influence of Atlanta’s rap culture. My goal was to better my personal situation along with those around me. And thanks to the Almighty, I had an opportunity to accomplish this. But not before I went through my own trials.

You see, life didn’t decide to hand me my success on a silver platter. Matter of fact, it didn’t come to any of my crew so easily. And if you plan on making it in the music industry, or any other field, then you need to be fully dedicated. As for me, blood, sweat and tears weren’t enough to stop me from reaching my goals. And hopefully my experiences will help you endure the pain to reach yours.

This is my story…

The Begining

Everything has its beginning. Even though it seems like, Joc, our crew, and I just popped up in videos, iced out with diamond bezels and platinum chains, the truth is our success didn’t come overnight. It came with a lot of hard work, foolish mistakes, and learned lessons.

Before I brought Joc to Big Block, before Block signed the deal with Diddy, and before the platinum record New Joc City was released, all of us were on separate paths. Everything has its beginning and this is the road I traveled, on that path to success . . . July 23, 1995

This was the day my granny, Ms. Willie Sue Stevens, said something to me that would stay with me until this very day. I was turning 18; I guess she felt it was time to open my eyes to life and its meaning.

Chauncey, she began. I wonder, what ‘chu gonna do now?

What do you mean Granny? not knowing what she was referring to.

With your life son, she said, looking into my eyes. What are you gonna do with it?

Her question caught me off guard and I really didn’t know how to respond. I knew she wasn’t blind and that she knew I was into some things I had no business, so I didn’t rush to answer. The last thing I wanted her to think was that I was playing her like a fool.

Listen, she continued. I have raised you to be a man, but now my job is done. The rest is up to you.

This small statement was so powerful that it made me look at myself and the life I had chosen. There was not much I could say I had going that my grandmother could be proud of. And for this, I began wondering what I was going to do.

You see, I grew up bouncing back and forth between East Atlanta and the city of Athens, and I would somehow find ways to fit into whatever environment I lived in. Athens was a small town 56 miles outside of Atlanta, and it didn’t offer many opportunities. It was the home of my grandmother, and during this time she was who I stayed with on Spring Valley Road.

Athens was only known for two things: the University of Georgia Bulldogs and drugs. One was a top SEC school, the other an easy alternative for youngsters like me to make a living. Sadly enough, hustling the streets became the choice I made in this small town. And to me, it was the only option that made sense.

The side of town my granny stayed on was a rural area where public transportation was not available. Neither she nor my Aunt Blondeen, who helped raise me, owned a vehicle. That made maneuvering around the city kind of hard and even harder for a teen. I had family members with cars that stayed near, but they had their own list of problems going on. Adding driving me around to that list wasn’t a priority.

The people in Athens referred to our area as down by the way. One street in our hood was about a mile long, with about 11 houses on it. In between some of the houses were open fields filled with horses. This street went down a hill and into a dead end, making it a very private area. Everybody on this street was related through blood or marriage. Living in a predominantly black community, I watched most of the people do whatever they had to do to survive.

Even though most of my cousins around my age and I were raised in the church, some of my older cousins had made the dead end into a popular drug trap known as the Hubbard Hole. The name came from the last name of my family members that stayed in the dead end. I guess my cousins were tired of not having shit, or whatever their reason was for getting in the game, I don’t really know, but they had a direct influence over me. I idolized them with their gold dookie rope chains, four-finger gold rings and nice cars.

My granny and aunt tried their best to keep me away from my cousins and their activities. They didn’t want anything to do with drugs or drug money, just Jesus Christ. They always told me that through Jesus I would always have everything I needed. But I was more concerned with what I wanted, which was a car.

Aunt Blondeen always got me what I wanted growing up. But around the age of 12 or 13 things changed, and what I wanted, she couldn’t afford along with trying to keep food on the table and the lights on. The idea of getting into the mix to get some wheels so I could get back and forth to a job to help out around the house, ended with me being knee deep in the game. My cousins started me off by counting their re-up money, which would be a couple hundred thousand dollars. Seeing how diligently I handled that position, they moved me up and gave me the job of driving the