TEKASHI 6ixX9ine & The Resilience of "Gangsta" Marketing
The political landscape has changed but crime still pays
Way back in the summer of 2019 a trial caught my eye because of its intersection of contemporary musical stardom and 21st century gangsta life. I became fascinated with the trial of Daniel Hernandez, better known as Tekashi 6ixX9ine, partly because it felt like Scorsese’s ‘Goodfellows’ come to life and largely because it spoke to how enduring the gangsta ethos was in our popular culture. After generations of Hollywood movies, tabloid headlines, gangsta rap and documentary crime series, associating yourself with crime, both organized and chaotic, is still a fast track to celebrity.
It featured a foul mouthed MC as the criminal minded narrator who, while testifying under oath in a Manhattan courtroom, was tossing two former comrades in malfeasance under the bus. Anthony ‘Harv’ Ellison and Ajermiah ‘Nuke’ Mack were members of Brooklyn’s Nine Trey Bloods, a gang that sold drugs, extorted money, staged kidnappings, committed assaults and robberies in my home borough’s non gentrified neighborhoods. The Nine Trey Bloods served as a validator and promoter of the then twenty-three year MC’s gangsta bonafides. When assistant United States attorney Michael Longyear asked Hernandez, “What did you get from Nine Trey?,” he answered, “I would say my career: credibility, my videos, music, their protection.”
When Hernandez was eighteen he began releasing tracks and videos on line, attracting as much attention for his rainbow hued hair, multi-colored grills, and extensive facial tattoos as his rhymes. His cartoon character appearance made him immediately recognizable on Instagram, Twitter, and Reddit. He broke through in 2017 with “Gummo,” which was certified platinum. Like many of his generation of MCs, it was on Soundcloud, where artists easily uploaded music to reach a taste maker audience, where Hernandez built his audience. In 2018 he enjoyed a top ten pop hit with the Nicki Minaj collaboration, “Fefe.”
To a great degree Hernandez’ commercial success was fueled by a series of reckless decisions captured on video. In October 2015 he plead guilty to use of a child in a sexual performance with a thirteen year old girl. Three videos of a naked adolescent girl interacting with Hernandez and a posse member named Taquan Anderson went viral. While Anderson is seen receiving oral sex from the underage girl the rapper is in every video in physical, if not sexual, contact with the victim. Hernandez made a plea deal to avoid jail time, but the video suggested he had, at minimum, terrible judgement and, more likely, no moral compass.
During his rise Hernandez aligned himself with the Nine Trey gang, a connection that started when Hernandez was in Riker’s Island a few years before on a drug case. He took on Ellison as his manager and using the Nine Trey Bloods as back up, Hernandez engaged in a stream of on line beefs with rappers from Houston, Chicago, and New York. There’s a long list of dis videos and nasty posts, but the most impactful was a beef with Chicago’s Chief Keef, which resulted in a gun shot being taken at Keef outside a midtown Manhattan hotel. The streets say Hernandez paid $200,000 for the hit, though no police charges were ever filed.
In another incident Nine Trey member Kifano ‘Shotti’ Jordan robbed the backpack of an associate of Houston’s Rap-A-Lot records at gun point in a Times Square hotel. Jordan gave Hernandez the gun and who admitted to taking it back to Brooklyn on the subway. That Hernandez was asked to carry a weapon just used in a felony suggest his role in Nine Trey was more gofer than gangsta. It’s reported that Ellison and Jordan made $85,000 as Hernandez’s manager, money that became a bone of contention within the gang as other members wanted a piece of the pie. “The gang. It was divided,” Hernandez testified about his earnings. “We’re all part of the same gang but we’re attacking each other.”
Hernandez, not surprisingly more entertainer than a gangsta, began chafing under Nine Trey’s control. A text message from Ellison to Hernandez read at the trial said it all: “Stop picking and choosing when you wanna be gangster.”
On July 22, 2018 gangsta life got too real for Hernandez. Around 4a.m. the MC and his driver Jorge Rivera were at the light in a light at the intersection of Atlantic and Bedford Avenues when a stolen Chevy Tahoe rammed into them. “Damn,” Hernandez thought, “they caught me slipping. It’s over.” A gang member known only as Sha opened the back door, pointed a gun at Hernandez, and dragged him out of the car into the Chevy where Ellison was behind the wheel.
“I’m pleading my heart ‘Yo, don’t shoot,” Hernandez testified. Rivera followed the Chevy for a few blocks until Ellison got out of the ride and ran towards the SUV, scaring him off. After losing Rivera, Ellison pulled the car over. Hernandez said. “Sha pinned me down on the floor by my hair and he just kept hitting me.”
“Say you’re not Billy!” Ellison demanded, using slang for a Nine Trey Bloods member. Hernandez said it three times. “Yo, we should do (kill) this nigga right here,” Sha allegedly said.
"You right. Ain’t nobody gonna know. It’s a stolie (stolen car) anyway. We could burn this shit,” Ellison said, according to Hernandez. Then Ellison said if Hernandez gave up his jewelry collection he’d let the MC live. The rapper’s bling included a red presidential Rolex, Cuban Links bracelet, four diamond rings, a spinning 69 diamond chain, a chain of the Jigsaw character from the movie “Saw" and a $95,000 My Little Pony necklace with his own rainbow-colored hair.
The trio drove to Hernandez’s Bedford-Stuyvesant home and Sha retrieved the jewelry stashed in a pink Minnie Mouse bag from the mother of the rapper’s daughter. But the thugs didn’t let him out of the car. Instead, they drove for a few more blocks. Fearing the worst Hernandez escaped the car and made a break for a nearby housing project. Hernandez jumped into the backseat of a random car at a nearby stop sign. The driver told him to get out, Hernandez recalled.
“Bro, I’m about to die. Just drive!” Hernandez said.
The driver complied but then ended up directly behind Ellison’s stolen car. Thankfully for the rapper Ellison apparently didn’t notice Hernandez hiding in the car and drove away. Hernandez got dropped off at a Brooklyn police precinct, ending that phase of his career as a hip hop gangsta.
At the trial Ellison’s attorney claimed the entire episode was a publicity stunt staged to promote the “Fefe” single. Not a totally crazy defense but the jury didn’t buy it, convicted Ellison of kidnapping Hernandez and Mack of dealing MDMA and a kilo pf heroin and fentanyl. Both men have appealed.
What was unexpected, but reflective of his desire for visibility, is that after the verdict Hernandez made noises about not going into the Witness Protection program, which would be typical for someone who publicly testified in such a high profile trial. Anonymity, to a product of the social media era, is a fate worse than death. (When word got out that a $10 million recording deal was on the table from his label 10K Projects Hernandez’s reluctance made sense.)
In the wake of Hernandez’s testimony a slew of hip hop figures, from OG Snoop Dogg to young Blueface, ridiculed Hernandez for “snitching.” Caught up in the ghettocentric philosophy of hip hop many have forgotten or disregarded the fact that there is still a world where Satan is renounced, co-signing violence has consequences, and criminal acts shouldn’t be left to street justice.
Though originally set for release August 2, 2020, COVID-19 proved a boon for Hernandez. His attorneys told the court he was at a higher risk for infection because he had a pre-existing asthma condition. The Feds had no problem with it. So he was released to home confinement, where he’s made hit records, shot videos with half-naked women and, perhaps, most importantly pursued myriad social media beefs. The details of who Hernandez took shots at on line (and who shot back) are, like a soap opera scenario, only of interest to those who watch daily.
The bigger truth is that Henandez’s social media presence means way more to him, and his fans, than the actual recordings, which exist as extensions of his rebel brand. Being notorious on social trumps music in the current cultural moment and has done so for a while. Toss in some gangsta flavor and you have an old school model of marketing that still works. Black lives matter has electrified a troubled nation, touching its sometimes faint conscience. But gangsta (and gangsters) still walk among us. Until America ends its romance with gangstas, both in streams and in streets, they’ll remain a deep dysfunction in our national DNA that it’ll take more than chants to dislodge.