Pimp a star in Memphis and gave underground phenom Playa Fly a name. It also introduced Gangsta Boo. “Three 6 were the first underground artists to come with CD duplication, and that made other niggas step they game up,” says Keeno, owner of Wav Lab studios in Memphis. That same year in November, Al Kapone dropped Da Resurrection on Priority Records and it was clear that Memphis was finally on the rise. However, it arguably reached its height in 1996, twenty years after the demise of Stax Records.
// 2 Wild 4 The World
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n 1996, Skinny Pimp, riding high off of the success of Mystic Stylez, released King of Da Playaz Ball in November. Blackhaven rapper Tela dropped the Southern classic Piece of Mind on Suave House, giving a then-unknown Jazzy Pha his big break with “Tired of Ballin’” and the syrupy “Sho Nuff” featuring Ball and G. With Memphis producer T-Mixx the resident at Suave House, the groundwork was laid for the city’s unique sound to impact the country. Playa Fly’s Fly Shit also dropped that October along with Gangsta Blac’s Can It Be. Not only were these artists huge in Memphis, but the sound quickly spread throughout all of Tennessee and into neighboring Georgia, hitting the Atlanta music scene hard. “Atlanta is like our big brother so ain’t no hatin’, but they kinda got the crunk style from us,” RedBoss maintains. “Back in the day they were on the booty-shake tip with Kilo Ali and a few other cats, being close to Florida and all. We need to get some credit; it’s long overdue. Ball and G have been doin’ it forever, Three 6 has been doin it forever but we still don’t get our respect.” Rapper Tom Skeemask, who worked alongside Squeeky agrees, “I read a few articles where people really felt like Lil Jon created crunk music. They’re entitled to their opinion but everybody knows where that sound comes from. It comes from right here.” It’s a sentiment that many Memphis natives share. That, coupled with the area’s radio stations’ refusal to consistently support local artists, has left many of the city’s artists aggravated. “It’s frustrating that Memphis hasn’t gotten its credit, but at the same time it’s understandable,” Howard Q acknowledges. “You have artists like Playa Fly that without radio could put out an album and sell 110,000 or 115,000 copies, Skinny sells 150,000 regionally without radio, so these guys were satisfied with the money that they were mak-
ing without being above ground. Other artists could come to the city and hear the music, but because it wasn’t on the radio, they could take it back to larger markets.” Needless to say, the underground rap scene was very profitable. Case and point: When DJ Squeeky made the switch from cassette to CD and released On a Mission in 1997, he sold 10,000 copies in a week with no radio play. “Radio was not supportive of Memphis music period during the mid-to late nineties,” says Howard Q. “All the way up until 1996 you only had one radio station that would play rap music, K 97.” Radio’s lack of interest, poverty-ridden conditions and the growing beef between local artists all helped to kill the buzz that Memphis had worked so hard to get. By 1996 the animosity between Squeeky and Paul’s camps was in full swing. “The whole city gets along. But you got Three 6 Mafia who took all the local Memphis artists’ sounds, songs, everything they heard on the streets and go back to they studio and remake it,” accuses Squeeky. He maintains that while he’s not stressing the situation, he would still never do a song with Three 6 unless they paid him “at least $1 million dollars” for allegedly stolen material. “There’s always going to be people who say negative things about you, but we’re doing a lot for the city and we’re trying to bring the city together, bring the city up,” says Juicy J regarding the situation. So would he do a song with Squeeky? He pauses for a second. “We never know what could happen, we never know,” he says. Adding fuel to the fire, Skinny Pimp, who had previously left Squeeky to join with DJ Paul found himself at odds with Three 6 over what he says were shady contracts. Though Skinny Pimp and Paul, who he says were once “like brothers,” are still not on speaking terms, Skinny expresses hope. “When Paul ready [to work together] I’ma be ready too,” he maintains. Combine the internal strife with the artist’s frustration at not getting the national respect and recognition they felt they deserved, and the result was nearly as significant as the death of Stax. “We pioneered a lot of shit but we just don’t get the credit,” says MJG, disappointment lacing his raspy voice. “We’re kinda underrated. What’s the full answer and reason? I don’t know myself.”
// Hustle & Flow “We done invested the heart and fa sho’ the muscle / And I could give a muthafuck about a flow and a hustle.” - MJG, “Memphis” Pure American Pimpin’
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kinny Pimp sits in his Atlanta apartment, his face lined with a mixture of disappointment, anger and indignation. He currently has a lawsuit pending against Craig Brewer, the director of Hustle & Flow, alleging that his life story was the premise for the movie. Brewer denies the claims. “Certain things in [Hustle & Flow] was strictly based on my life story,” Skinny says, shaking his head. “Then how they got a dude named Skinny Black in the movie? Everybody know it ain’t no rapper in Memphis that call themselves Skinny nothin’ but me.” DJ Squeeky agrees with Skinny’s claims. “They had the white boy, they had the dude playin’ the rapper and they had this big dude in there makin’ beats. Now that story right there consists of me, the white boy that used to make music for us named J-Dawg and Skinny Pimp.” Lawsuit aside, Hustle & Flow was more than just a movie for most Memphis natives. It was an opportunity to finally have their story accurately told, for the world to get a glimpse of their struggles, hardships and ultimately, their creativity.
(Above): Rapper/producers David Banner and Jazze Pha at Memphis’ legendary Stax Museum (Photo: Julia Beverly)
“That movie was a flop to us,” says Squeeky bluntly. OZONE
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