“We out on the road enjoyin’ our wealth
Around the globe our stories are felt
Cause I can do bad by myself
I’ma survive with my n*ggas help
My n*ggas gon’ ride with no safety belt
Cause I can I do bad by myself…”
The time was 2006 and the institution known as the Diplomats stood at a peculiar fork in the road. Rumors of a break up ran rampant and the diminishing frequency of seeing Cam and Jimmy in unison only reinforced Hip Hop conspiracy theorists’ claims. And ironically, different members were branching out in attempts to begin their own crusade using the same principles which made Dipset so culturally successful.
Like I’ve said over and over again, Jim Jones, of all people, played rap’s Mel Kiper landing him the best draft class of any Diplomat. To coincide with his then-commercial peak (keep in mind, this was approximately during the height of “We Fly High”), Capo brought along with him to his Byrdgang imprint a proven ghetto crooner in Max B and an underground, lauded lyricist in Stack Bundles. Most preconceived shortcomings in Jimmy’s repertoire were masked by the other two. The alignment made sense, yet potential loomed over the three akin to the Statue of Liberty overlooking the city and their joint effort “Do Bad By Myself” bled through the speakers with chemistry. Of the trio, however, Max’s verse crashed with a wave consciousness ultimately symbolizing his own situation years later.
“They try takin’ me in, violate my civil rights breakin’ me in (Nope!)
’84, ma dukes was smokin’, pop dukes was sniffin’
Rock jewels that glisten, cop shoes that glisten
Wasn’t for rap Max would be in the street
Or doin’ life in the can beatin’ my meat
But, not me cause I’m hot and I’m gon’ blow
My rocks be on glow, my pops he won’t go
Eh-eh, you ain’t dyin’, don’t run from me dad
And I really ain’t tryin’ to squeeze
Take this gun from me dad
For I, get sent up somewhere up in the snow
Spent years studying raps preparing the flow
Niggas show me love, bitches show me love
Any homie act up, any homie get plugged
These niggas stackin’ for wealth
Fuck a bitch cause I can do bad by myself
I said, these niggas clappin’ for wealth
Fuck a bitch cause I can do bad by myself…”
Where that inherent success almost manipulated itself to take on the semblance of destiny, reality took precedence. Jones’ star diminished, while he and Max B saw their bond meet a nasty, public dismantlement. Bundles’ story encountered the same expiration as so many other young black men who never escape the trappings of their own neighborhood. Potential, more-so untapped potential, holds no weight in the natural order of evolution. The only thing this world respects is results.
Stack Bundles, Jim Jones & Max B – “Do Bad By Myself”
Previously: Could Max B Walk Out Of Prison This Summer?