Before he was G checking Lil Wayne at strip clubs, Trick Daddy was at a turning point in his career and the 305 was shifting their focus to newcomers Plies and Rick Ross. We pay homage to the Miami music maker for this week’s #ThrowbackThursday. Don’t act like you don’t remember Slip ‘N Slide Records!
For the last 10 years, Trick Daddy has given poverty a passionate voice. But before becoming one of Southern hip hop’s most influential lyricists, he lived through project life, bloody riots and back-woods prison bids. Bear witness to the wisdom of a thug.
Who is Trick Daddy? Sure, he’s a rapper, but he’s never been easy to classify—one minute his words ache like a withered old soul, the next he’s recording hooks with a pack of fresh-faced neighborhood children (yes, Trick love the kids). He’s a self-professed thug for life (all of his albums, except for his 1997 debut Based On A True Story, have contained the word “thug”), yet he’s more socially aware than your average politician. They don’t call him the Mayor of Miami for nothing.
Trick was born Maurice Young in the Liberty City section of Miami, Florida. His home was the Liberty Square Housing Projects, commonly known as the Pork ‘n’ Beans Projects, the city’s dysfunctional flipside to the glitzy South Beach lifestyle portrayed on TV. The public housing complex was originally built in the 1930s to accommodate the city’s low income, largely black population. For the first 20-plus years, a wall on the east side of Liberty Square separated the black and white neighborhoods, but by the time Trick was coming up, things had changed. The wall was torn down, and all white neighbors had fled Liberty City for good. The once promising community had deteriorated into crime and tension with police, resulting in a number of riots. After an all-white jury acquitted four white police officers in the brutal killing of a black insurance salesman named Arthur McDuffie, a violent, three day riot ensued. The violence made its mark on a young Trick, who was then only five years old.
Today, after a decade in the music business, the 31-year-old seems to be at a turning point. His once trusty label, Slip-N-Slide Records, seems distant to him now, with CEO Ted Lucas seeming more occupied with his newer artists Rick Ross and Plies. To make matters worse, his fellow Slip-N-Slide/Atlantic artist, Trina, was recently dropped from the label, and Trick’s latest, Back by Thug Demand, had sold only about 130,000 copies as of press time, a weak showing compared to the rest of his catalogue. Marketing an artist like Trick, who speaks his mind and is full of contradictions, is not easy in this volatile music industry. Still, Trick seems secure in the knowledge that he is a man of the people. With his new crew and label Dunk Ryders, Trick is finally taking some younger artists under his wing. Even if he falls, a genuine artist and human being like Trick can always count on there being many hands there to catch him. Aw, trust.
Mass Appeal: Last time you spoke to Mass Appeal, you were on house arrest. When did you get your freedom back?
Trick Daddy: I been off of that for over a year and a half. But it’ll never be freedom for me. I’m a hip hop artist. I’m a thug. I’m black. I’m an ex-convict and I’m living in the state of Florida. I’m always gonna be in some type of trouble, even if I didn’t do it. But never the good stuff. Never the toys, never the school supplies.
MA: How do the police treat you when you’re at home? They must know you.
TD: I always feel like there’s cops and there’s police. What separates the two is that one goes to work looking for me, and the other one goes to work to make the streets safer and also to make it home to his family. For one, it’s personal: black guy, gold teeth. He’s probably a drug dealer, or I just don’t like fuckin’ Trick Daddy. As for the others, they’re like, “Good morning, sir. Sorry I had to pull you over, but you were speeding.” Yeah, I was in a hurry. “No problem. If you’re in a hurry, we’ll run your name, get your ticket so you can get on out of here, man.”
MA: Down in Liberty City, some of the politicians are trying to close down a shanty town called Umoja Village, where all the homeless people are living. Have you heard about this?
TD: Yeah. Where can they go? They already homeless. Are the [politicians] creating a monster? Are people going to end up on their back porches? Are they going to end up in the supermarkets and the grocery stores? Are they going to end up sleeping on the school bus or in the high schools so when the kids get there, their urine and feces are everywhere? What are they going to do?
MA: How do you think the city usually deals with homeless people?
TD: No city in America cares about the homeless. Not the America I know. The America I know is spelled with three Ks. The America I know is still prejudiced. The America I know is still unjust. And the rich get richer and the poor stay poor. And we either work for them or don’t work.
MA: If you were the Mayor, what would you do with the shanty town?
TD: There would be no homeless. Let’s say there was a mother or a single parent with three kids—the two oldest kids and one of the dads in prison, and the other one on drugs. As long as that woman is doing something—I don’t care if she work at Burger King, if she sells newspapers—as long as she doing something to help me help her, as a state official, as a city official, I’ll get her the voucher and make sure she get on some food stamps to help feed her kids. I’d encourage her to do better and be something in life and remind her that her kids will more than likely follow in her footsteps. A strong woman with a strong backbone builds a strong foundation and raises strong families. Sometimes you have people dumb enough to not even try to help themselves. She want to have a baby every year just so her food stamps can go up. Shit like that is where I say, “You got to go.” Other than that, when people can’t help themselves, but they trying their hardest, with all their might, those are the people I help.
MA: How do you tell the difference?
TD: You can tell the difference by how they keep their home. The mannerisms of the kids, how they keep themselves, how they talk when they come and see me. Are they appreciative of it?