April/May 2006 (v8 i6)
Crossing Your Border 1997
 Jump to Issue  


Interactive
Buy Merchandise

AIM Buddy Icons

Desktop Backgrounds

Webcam




Last month’s release of “One Foot in tha Grave,” the major-label debut of 82-year-old rapper MC DiaBetiK, has the music world abuzz. DiaBetiK’s invective-driven lyrics, the majority of which target young artists whose work DiaBetiK sees as a perversion of rap’s original form, have generated controversy matched by few artists. The Travesty had the opportunity to sit down with DiaBetiK during a break in his tour schedule to talk about his life, his career, and his post-tour plans.

Travesty: You’re about halfway through with your cross-country tour at this point; how has the experience been? What can we expect from the remainder of the tour?

MC DiaBetiK: I rounded up the guys I toured with back in ’82 when we were MC DiaBetiK and the Geriatrix, so I knew coming into this thing that shit was going to be intense. Last night we hit up a titty bar after the show to score some coke and maybe hunt down some tail. I’m in this place less than a minute when the manager takes us all into VIP. We brought some chicks from the show with us and this place is just getting wild, girls all getting naked and shit. My boy Robert had to turn his pacemaker monitor off because that shit was beeping nonstop, that’s how crazy this place was. The managers just keep bringing out drinks and a stripper comes up and starts taking off my pants, so I laid down about a 10 minute flow while I was waiting for an erection. I wish someone had recorded that shit, it was nasty as hell.

Travesty: In light of an industry that is trending toward younger performers, were you surprised by the success of “One Foot in tha Grave”?

MC DiaBetiK: Hell no. You surprised when the damn sun rises? The DBK has had producers hanging on his balls for decades, cousin. I’m talking about record execs taking me out to lunch trying to sweet talk me into selling out since the Johnson administration and shit. CEOs calling me cute, telling me I’m a cutie just to get me to slang down some lyrics. I’m talking about August 9th, 1945, leaning out of an airplane dropping Fat Man on Nagasaki. I’m about to do it again — I’m going to drop a hip-hop hydrogen bomb on this industry, blow this shit to smithereens. My album went triple platinum, I don’t give a damn. That shit doesn’t concern me. I’ve got people to think about that kind of stuff for me. I’m talking about wearing so much ice that my enemies think Hell froze over. I’m talking about ushering in a new Ice Age, having cavemen in my backyard walking around all hairy and shit talking about the Wooly Mammoth...

A member of MC DiaBetiK’s entourage interrupts him and hands him a sheet of paper. MC DiaBetiK looks over it for a second and hands it back, saying, “I think they have my prescription on file.”

MC DiaBetiK: What was I saying?

Travesty: the Wooly Mammoth?

MC DiaBetiK: Hell yeah.

Travesty: So has the money changed you?

MC DiaBetiK: Money’s not new to me — I’ve got my fingers in all sorts of pies. I’ve got a pretty well-funded IRA that I rolled my 401(k) into. I had 100 percent matching on that bitch, too. I’m in some aggressive no-load mutual funds that pay out like 13 percent annually or some shit. I put my pension into some long-term bonds, and I’m taking that shit in as income every month. My money’s making me money; I don’t worry about that bullshit. Plus, it gets spread around. I’m 82, I’ve got grandchildren. That’s a lot of mouths to feed.

Travesty: What are your thoughts on the evolution of rap into a sort of celebration of violence?

MC DiaBetiK: That shit is old news. All these new rappers talking about shooting people, that shit is silly. I’ve still got shrapnel in my ass from the Battle of the Bulge, dog. I’m talking about the European theatre, turning Krauts into Swiss cheese and shit. My M1 carbine’s got more notches on it than my headboard. I’m talking about reality, dude. These new rappers are talking about fantasy, like the boogeyman and shit. Don’t make me laugh.

MC DiaBetiK produces a Nokia N-Gage from his jacket pocket and begins playing a game.

Travesty: What is your reaction to the recent comment by Young Buck that you’re an “old-ass man that needs to shut his mouth”?

MC DiaBetiK: I don’t know who that is.

Travesty: Do you have any closing comments?

MC DiaBetiK: R.I.P. Jerry Orbach. I’m out.


« Back to the April/May 2006 issue
©1997-2006 Texas Travesty | Copyright & Legalese | Issue Credits | Texas Travesty Archives Home