When he met DC, Steve already had a couple of bands. In DC, he found a future collaborator. DC could sing and play piano; Steve played drums and was a budding beat-maker.
DC played football; Steve was elected senior class president and prided himself on his wardrobe, which included a pair of penny loafers. Everything that made Denver a generally safe place for a young African-American male made it a terrible incubator for hip-hop. Steve let out a groan when he saw the green house.
Steve got out of the SUV and wandered over to the sidewalk that runs along the front of the house. DC and I followed. Steve walked up the steps and into the yard to get a better look. There was a big porch out front, with some plants lining the walkway. As Steve poked around, a gray-haired woman appeared suddenly from behind a storm door. She opened the door. The two stayed close and paired up again when DC moved south in and eventually got a job as a DJ at an Atlanta strip club called Magic City.
The money paid for rent and food, kept DC in the local music scene, and gave him afternoons to work with Steve on new material. When he learned about the chant, Whoomp!
Both men were now 26 and seriously considering their futures in the music business. Make a few beats , DC told Steve. Do the bass your way. At the recording studio in his house, Steve put together five beats and brought DC over to listen.
They were good, DC said. But one stood out. They added several call-and-response sections, then patched the rest of the track together.
They put the track away for a few months, then played it again one night in February The song was a hit. They needed to find a record label, DC said, right away. Man, did they have it good: trips to Rio, to Germany.
People were going crazy. Birthday parties, bar mitzvahs, frat parties. You name it, the song was there. She got a standing ovation.
Even if they thought the success would last forever—and they did—DC and Steve acted as if it all could disappear just as suddenly. Money rolled in, and the two spent it without consideration. Steve got married and started to build a family, but he brought friends with him on international trips and paid for everyone. Soon afterward, calls stopped getting returned; the checks stopped arriving. Bell, who did not respond to an email sent to his attorney, now has full say over how the song can be used in the future.
All DC can do these days is shake his head. I take responsibility. The eponymous Whoomp! The two released a second album, Audio Entertainment , in that flopped. Drake evidently has sway as Williams won the first of three career Sixth Man awards that year.
The list runs longer than the regular season. Five years ago, an artist desperate for a record deal wrote his first song by linking his industry struggles with his favorite player. Allen Iverson loved it so much he had it played at his 40th birthday party. Today, his songs are sprinkled with NBA drops. Anyone named-dropped on such a hit was therefore promised immortality. It was a good night when that song came on.
So I was like, all right, this is my jam right here. This is the jam. The two clicked, with Van Exel pleasantly surprised and impressed by the down-to-earth demeanor of the rap icon. The way he spun it and pulled it off, I thought that was nice. I officially crowned him the champ. Players mentioned in songs see it as a high honor, but it can get weird when the song is played in a room full of people and heads turn.
Not so for Smith Jr. Stay solid. Shaun Powell has covered the NBA for more than 25 years. You can e-mail him here , find his archive here and follow him on Twitter. The views on this page do not necessarily reflect the views of the NBA, its clubs or Turner Broadcasting. You agree that your personal information will be used to send you messages about NBA related products and services, and share your personal information with NBA partners and affiliates so that they can also contact you about products and services that might be of interest to you.
News Archive. Community Showcase More. Follow TV Tropes. You need to login to do this. Get Known if you don't have an account. That's Bret on the left, Jemaine on the right, relaxing at home. Bret: I don't think we're going to get sex and get paid.
Jemaine: Why not? Bret: Because we never get sex or get paid. Bret: singing She was comparable to Cleopatra Jemaine: talking Quite old? Bret: singing She was like Shakespeare's Juliet Jemaine: talking What, thirteen?
Killing each other using knives and forks and calling each other names like dork. Murray: The per diem I gave you was for the week!
Jemaine: Per diem means "for the day," though. Murray: Well, I don't know Latin. Jemaine: Per weekum would be the correct term. Murray: I can't go back there. I'm persona non regatta. You know what that means?
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