Akinyele and ODB were like Batman and the Joker. Usually Dirt was the
one setting it off, so I guess heâd be the Joker. Heâd run down on Akinyele at
the drop of a hat.I still donât know what their beef originally stemmed from. All I know is
no matter the place or time, if ODB saw Akinyele, it was like Uma Thurman
in Kill Billâan alarm would go off in Dirtyâs head. Weâd walk up in the club
or whatever, and Dirt would spot him: âI canât stand this dude.â Even if
Akinyele was up onstage performing, Dirt would run right up on him and
swing. Akinyele would swing back, and the next thing you know theyâd be
wrestling on the stage and rolling around on the floor.
It went down between them in ATL once when ODB rushed the stage.
They fought over the mic for about five minutes before they were separated.
And that wasnât even the best throwdown between them.
The wildest fight between Dirt and Akinyele was somewhere in Brooklyn.
No lie, I think this was the wildest night in history, period. I have a lot of
stories of wild nights, but this one particular time in Brooklyn was the epitome
of wild. Of course, it starts with ODB spotting Akinyele onstage rhyming.
âOh, this bytch ass is here? fukk this guy. This cornball-ass motherfukker,
whatâs he doinâ here? I hate this a$$hole.â
Before anyone can say shyt, Dirtâs onstage fighting with Akinyele. The two
of them are rolling around, cursing and fighting for the mic. As usual, Dirt
emerges the victor, complete with mic in tow. So Dirty goes to the front of the
stage and gets ready to talk his shyt. Someone in the crowd lets off a shot
âPOW! Right after that gun went off, âShimmy Shimmy Yaâ dropped right on cue.
The entire crowd, everyone in that building, lost their goddamn minds. That
energy, though it was teetering on a really negative vibe the whole night, still
felt positive. In the crowd, dudes was smokinâ dust in the spot, mad trees is
burning. People pushing and jumping around. A few people got punched in
the face and beat down in the fracas, but ODB was still rocking. Toward the
end of his second song, though, shyt turned into a royal rumble. Everybody
started fighting. There was mad commotion everywhere, so we all congregated in the back
to keep from getting swept up in the shyt. Slick Rick the Ruler was there,
watching the whole thing go down in the back with us. Heâs in there in all his
big-ass gold truck jewelry. There were bar stools getting thrown, glass
breaking, someone got shot in the ass outside the club, people were getting
stomped. All around us was chaos and bedlam, but no one touched Slick Rick.
He was like the Statue of Liberty, motherfukkers just had respect for him like
that. We made sure he was just shining with a sea of us goons separating him
from the melee. The brawlers ended up taking their shyt outside into the street.
With most of the fight outside, we took advantage of the little lull in action
to gather up the soldiers and head out. As weâre getting everybody together,
one dude walks up to us. He had obviously been fighting, judging from his
head leaking all kinds of blood down his face. He didnât seem fazed at all,
though. In fact, he was hyped. He recognized some of the Clan and saluted us.
âYo!â he shouted. âThis the illest party I ever been to in my entire life! I
fukk with yâall!â Thatâs all he said. Didnât wipe the blood off his head or
anything. Just said his piece and walked off.
Sounds like pre boxing Mike Tyson
my uncles and older cousins in ENY told me worse stories about homie than this
Mike probably was beating fools dad up
