Now that the rest of his crew is facing dire circumstances, Mouse has been stepping out on his own on tapes like last year’s great Swagga Fresh Freddie and this year’s Killy Kyleon collab Welcome To The Fish Fry. Mouse was always my favorite of Trill’s rap voices he’s got a great elastic singsong snap-drawl descended directly from Juvenile, and everything he says sounds like a hook. crewmates, Mouse, the house producer behind most of the Boosie hits that set that Florida crowd off, is still making music at a high level. Case in point: Mouse.Īlone among his Trill Ent. If you’re a rapper in 2012, you’re probably not making that corporate money unless you know who Jeremy Scott and Grimes are (or unless you’re Chief Keef, and your thuggery somehow comes across like soul-burnt outsider art), and that means plenty of excellent talents are being left behind. Even as rappers like Boosie remain regional cult heroes, the safer money is on scrubbed-up, emotive, fashion-forward Drake types. And even if they weren’t dealing with all that death and prison time, it’s impossible to imagine a major label gambling on a rangy, ferocious rap crew like Trill Ent. Webbie and Foxx, two of the label’s other stars, are simply adrift. Lil Phat, another of the label’s rappers, is dead, as are a lot of people in its orbit. Boosie recently beat a murder charge that could’ve landed him on death row, but he’s still going to be in prison for a long time on assorted drug convictions. If you want an idea of how the rap world has changed in the years since, the fate of Boosie’s label Trill Ent. Boosie’s big hits were, by and large, strip-club anthems, but I still felt like I was seeing DMX in 1997 or something. He moved like an electrical current was flowing through him, and the audience at that show rapped every word back at him with a verve that mirrored his own. But when he touched the stage, things changed.
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Free advice for young writers: Never, ever smoke weed with musicians.) When the show’s promoters sent a Dodge Caravan around to pick him up, he sat sullenly in the front seat, ignoring the fans pounding on the windows, until the promoter produced some ungodly sum of cash, holding up the show while he counted every bill. I don’t know what was in that weed, but it had me on my ass for the whole rest of the interview.
When I finally asked him for a hit, that turned out to be an awful mistake.
(He didn’t offer me any of his weed, which annoyed me for purely etiquette-based reasons. He was in town to play a show in a club parking lot, opening for Trick Daddy and Lil Wayne, and he spent the hours before the show in a darkened hotel room, smoking vast amounts of weed, chewing out his friends for fucking up McDonald’s orders, watching infomercials, and bitching about how much money he should be getting. Boosie, at least that day, was kind of a dick. About five years ago, I flew down to Orlando to spend some time with the then-rising Baton Rouge rapper Lil Boosie, for a profile that King magazine never got around to publishing before it went out of business.
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