Old Gangsters, New Snitches: How Big U, Bricc Baby, and Luce Cannon Got Caught Up By Culture Vultures
There’s a comedy show playing out in the streets, but the punchline got handcuffs on it. Picture this: a bunch of OGs—Big U, Bricc Baby, Luce Cannon—talking Thier ass off on a public platform, thinking they’re “selling” the game not “telling” the game to the likes of DJ Vlad and No Jumper. There is an old adage in the Black community: “If you want to know the truth from a nigga, put a “white man” in front of them”. There is supposed to be a code to the streets: “Keep your mouth shut, let the streets talk.” Now? They’re out here yapping like they’re auditioning for The Rat Pack: Hip-Hop Edition. And guess what? The Feds were taking notes, laughing all the way to the indictment. This isn’t a cautionary tale—it’s a Black wake-up call with a side of “shaking my head.”
Big U, the supposed kingpin of the Rollin’ 60s Neighborhood Crips, a man who’s been painted as both a community pillar and a street titan. He was managing Nipsey Hussle, dropping gems about redemption, then turning around and spilling tea on No Jumper like it’s a barbershop open mic. Bricc Baby? The trap philosopher who went from spitting bars to hosting podcasts, couldn’t stop flexing about the old days— he argued idiotically, right in front of Adam 22 a questionable podcast host with DIRECT CONNECTIONS to federal agents that he had “More murders than squabbles”. Don’t ask why he got hit with a RICO charge. And Luce Cannon, bless his heart, was arguing with Wack100 on camera like it’s Love & Hip-Hop, not realizing every “I did this” was a gift-wrapped confession for the prosecution. These brothers didn’t just talk themselves into a corner—they built the damn jail cell.
Now, here’s the funny part: they picked all pale male platforms to confess their deepest darkest secrets. DJ Vlad—a dude who looks like he’d call the cops if you sneezed too loud—has been culture vulturing for years, getting Black folks to spill their guts while he nods like a therapist with a hidden recorder. No Jumper? Adam22’s playground, where street cred goes to get a paycheck and a subpoena. These ARE NOT OUR SPACES. There are no safe spaces on DJ VLAD or NO JUMPER. They’re traps dressed up as interviews, and our OGs waltzed right in, thinking they’re untouchable. Meanwhile, Vlad’s over there counting YouTube coins, and Adam’s swearing “I’m just giving them a platform!” Yeah, a platform straight to the penitentiary.
But let’s get serious for a sec—this ain’t just about bad decisions; it’s about a legacy at stake. Big U, Bricc, and Luce are products of a Black struggle that turned survival into swagger. Gangsta rap came from that, a raw cry from the hood that flipped pain into power. Yet here they are, handing that power over to outsiders who don’t know Compton from a country club. Every boast about “back in the day” wasn’t just nostalgia—it was evidence. The Feds didn’t need wiretaps; they had Wi-Fi. And who’s lurking in the shadows, stirring the pot? Wack100, the loudmouth manager with more beefs than a butcher shop. Word on the street—and I’m just alluding here—is that Wack’s got a Fed badge stashed under that oversized T-shirt. He’s too cozy, too quick to point fingers, and too alive while everyone else catches cases. Coincidence? You tell me.
The tragedy is, these brothers could’ve been elders, passing down wisdom instead of warrants. Imagine Big U mentoring kids without a mic in his face, Bricc Baby teaching production instead of prosecution, Luce Cannon building bridges instead of burning them. But nah, they got seduced by the clout chase, forgetting the first rule of the game: silence is survival. Now they’re starring in Operation Draw Down, a federal blockbuster where the only winners are the ones who never sat down for the interview.
So, what’s the lesson for us? Stop feeding the vultures. Our stories are ours—sacred, messy, real. We don’t need Vlad’s smirk or Adam’s smirkier smirk to validate us. And for God’s sake, keep Wack100’s “agent” ass out your “Clubhouse”. The revolution’s coming, but it ain’t gonna be on a podcast hosted by a dude who can’t even pronounce “homie” right. If this wasn’t so serious it would be hilarious. A Dave Chappelle skit, “when keeping it real goes wrong”. Let’s get serious about protecting what’s ours.
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