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A quick landing for Takeoff

A quick landing for Takeoff
By Byron Crawford • Issue #456 • View online
You can imagine how difficult it was for me to hear that Takeoff from Migos was shot and killed in a dice game, possibly by his own weed carrier, and know that I might have to write about it, if nothing else interesting happened this week.
In a sense, I’m the real victim here.
I’d hate for anyone to think that I find anything at all amusing about this, if only because I’ve got enough problems. As discussed in this week’s Members Only™ edition, I’m like Billy in the movie Purple Rain. I’ve even got a similar physique. (I might get a burgundy velour tracksuit.)
I can sympathize with Takeoff’s plight, having attended many a dice game as a spectator, at Warehouse #1. They had a strict no weapons policy, but that just meant you had to go outside to your car if you needed to pull a gun out on someone. I was at a natural disadvantage, because I couldn’t run as fast as some of my coworkers, nor could I hide behind things as easily.
One time a guy did go home to get a gun, after getting into a fight over the proper way to fold pants (he took his work seriously), but they called the cops on him and it was fine. I wasn’t sweating getting shot, because I wasn’t part of this particular argument, but it occurs to me, having observed the events this week in Houston, that some of these guys aren’t especially good at shooting.
How many senseless deaths could be prevented if they had schools where they taught child gangbangers how to properly shoot guns? Remember that time Pitchfork took Chief Keef to a firing range? They may have been on to something.
People are all upset with J. Prince, because Migos checked in with him and hence should have been exempt from getting shot and killed at a dice game. If I were the two guys who didn’t get killed, I’d definitely see about getting my money back, and maybe also getting Takeoff’s share back to place in a trust for his kids, if he has any kids. He was 28 years old, so it’d be odd if he didn’t. (His face was kinda feminine, right?)
J. Prince, in a statement, said he didn’t have anything to do with it. He implies that Migos’ weed carrier, who was someone’s uncle (I’m sure the next family reunion will be awkward, to say the least), fired the fatal shot, accidentally. He can’t have people thinking that checking in with him doesn’t constitute a guarantee that they won’t get shot in the face, even if it doesn’t. He’s got a business to run.
Anyway, that’s not how a protection racket works. Are people, including literally everyone on Twitter, so dumb that they don’t get that, when you pay someone for the privilege of being in their city, you’re not paying them to protect you from some other guy who might shoot you? If you don’t pay them, *they* shoot you. Er, they pay someone to shoot you.
Not that this is the time to discuss this, what with the situation in the NBA, but there was a Jewish group that was doing that to rappers back in the ‘90s. Jerry Heller sicced them on Suge Knight, and that’s why Eazy-E made money on every copy The Chronic sold, as alluded to on “Real Compton City Gs” (but then they of course robbed Eazy). There wasn’t even the pretense of them working security at people’s birthday parties. With all due respect to US Bank.
My thoughts and prayers are with Takeoff’s family and friends and millions of fans. It can’t be easy losing a loved one at such a young age, albeit fairly late in his career, and I’m sure the fact that getting shot during an argument in a dice game is the most authentic way to go out is hardly any consolation.


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Byron Crawford

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