Havoc is excited. The Mobb Deep MC and acclaimed industry producer is preparing to film a video with Wu-Tang Clan MC-turned-actor and Internet crush Method Man, and the thought of new music for the masses has him thrilled to pieces.
“This shit is about to be fire,” he says enthusiastically. “I can’t wait for everybody to check it out.”
This single is dropping as part of a larger project with Method Man, which will serve as a tribute to their fallen comrades Ol’ Dirty Bastard (ODB) and Prodigy, respectively. But that’s not the only new music in the pipeline: after getting the blessing from his late rap partner estate, Havoc will drop the final Mobb Deep album featuring never-before-released verses from the late, great Prodigy, and production by longtime Mobb Deep producer Alchemist, on November 2nd, 2024 — on what would have been Prodigy’s 50th birthday.
Born Kejuan Muchita in Brooklyn, New York, Havoc was raised in the Queensbridge Housing Project — the same place that would give the world rappers like MC Shan, Cormega, and of course, Nas — and attended the High School of Art & Design in Manhattan, where he met Albert Johnson (later known as Prodigy). There, the duo would form Poetical Prophets, which later became “The Infamous” Mobb Deep.
Havoc isn’t only known for his rhymes — whether as a solo artist, notably on “American Nightmare,” where he traded bars with ex-Juice Crew MC Kool G Rap, or as one-half of Mobb Deep. He’s also become one of the most acclaimed producers in hip-hop, sitting behind the boards crafting tracks for Lil Wayne, 2 Chainz, and Eminem.
GRAMMY.com spoke with Havoc to talk about his new projects, his legacy with Mobb Deep, and how being both a rapper and a producer is a blessing and a curse.
This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
Let’s just dive right into it. Let’s talk about your new single with Method Man and your new album.
The concept of the album is to pay tribute to our loved ones who passed away — to Ol’ Dirty Bastard, and to Prodigy. We thought it would be cool to do a salute to them. Method Man and I had worked together before this — and seeing that we worked together so well, you know, we decided to do it again.
With the Mobb Deep album: that’s been a long time in the making. I wanted to make it years ago, but it wasn’t completely my decision. I also needed to work with Prodigy’s estate, and they needed time to come to terms with the idea. I gave them as much time as they needed — and of course, we hit a few bumps in the road, but nothing major. We were finally like, “It’s time.” It’s time to continue with the Mobb Deep legacy — to remember Prodigy — and to give the supporters the music that they miss, and love, from Mobb Deep.
Alchemist was one of the people that we worked with when we did the Mobb Deep albums. We were always in contact because we were good friends — and I wanted to have him included to keep up with the Mobb Deep tradition. His inclusion is what our supporters would expect from a classic Mobb Deep album.
I wanted to explore, a little bit, what you said earlier about collaborating with Method Man to both pay tribute to your fallen comrades, and to produce new music. How much of it would you say is paying tribute to ODB and Prodigy, while educating young heads about their history — and how much of it is the “new sound” that’s representative of where you two are in your careers right now?
It’s equally a bit of both. We’re talking about where we’re at right now in our careers and our lives — we’re both older now. Method Man really doesn’t like to curse too much, and I understand — but I’m on there, talking my talk, as usual. Nonetheless, Method Man is in the greatest space he’s ever been in, in his life.
You also have a great deal of influence in hip-hop as a producer. Some may go so far as to say that you’re one of the most iconic producers of all time. From your perspective, the two-fold question is this: would you say your impact is more felt as a rapper, or as a producer? And is that your legacy, in this industry, and how you’d like to be remembered?
I believe I’m better received as a producer than as a rapper — which is kind of like a gift and a curse. It doesn’t bother me too much, but I pour a lot of my heart into writing — I started as a rapper first, and did production later.
I don’t know how the transition happened — how I became better known for my production work more than my rapping — but I’d love for people to know how rapping is indeed my passion, because, to me, it’s tough being a rapper that writes his lyrics and does his production at the same time. That’s a big leap. If you could ask any rapper that same question, they’d tell you that it’s a lot to do.
I’m happy that I’m being recognized, but I’d like respect for my pen game.
Let’s go back to the early years — 1991, and your appearance in “Unsigned Hype” in The Source when you started to make headway in the mixtape scene in New York. Did you recognize that you were tapping into something special, or did that recognition come later?
I think we knew we tapped into something special, whether people recognized it at the time or not. So, when the recognition from a broader audience came along, it just affirmed what we knew all along.
With “Unsigned Hype,” that opened the floodgates for us. One thing led to another, we signed our first record deal, and that’s when we started releasing our singles and working with Wu-Tang Clan and other artists. That’s when we took hip-hop by storm. So we knew that we’d tapped into something special, and we hadn’t even finished the full album yet.
Read more: The Unending Evolution Of The Mixtape: “Without Mixtapes, There Would Be No Hip-Hop”
Where did your mind go with it, once you realized that? Did that change the way you made music, from that point forward?
I believe so. We had a unique recipe, and we followed that recipe for the rest of our career. And we knew that people wanted a specific sound from us, and they wanted us. They didn’t want Nas, or Big L, or even Biggie. They wanted Mobb Deep. So we never tried to be like anyone else — we just gave them us, and that was the winning formula.
How did you handle being drawn into the intense East Coast-West Coast feud, particularly after 2Pac named you in ‘Hit ‘Em Up’?
We were ready for it. We were prepared for war. Look, hip-hop is a contact sport. It is very competitive. So I just looked at it as a rap battle. At the time, I looked at it and thought, “Well, maybe when we see each other in person, there will be a little scuffle.” We’re artists — we might rap about certain things, and speak about political issues and life in the hood, but at the end of the day, we’re entertainers.
I thought people had more respect for human life. I never thought it was a life-and-death game. But when it became a life-and-death game, it shook the core of my existence. I didn’t like it at all. And I don’t believe that anybody involved — not Pac, not Big, not anybody — deserved to lose their life over some rap beef.
It made me paranoid, and I believe I still have PTSD over it. Biggie Smalls and I share the same birthday. So it hits closer to home for me.
Did you ever get a chance to squash the beef with Pac while he was still alive?
Not at all. He died in the middle of our beef. We put a record out called “Drop a Gem on ’em” in response to “Hit ‘Em Up.” We put the single on the radio — it was clear we were dissin’ Pac — and, not even seven days after we first dropped the single, we found out he got shot in Vegas. And we pulled the record from the radio — purposefully.
It wasn’t until maybe 20 years after the fact that we got a chance to speak with Snoop Dogg. I never thought I’d get a chance to chill around West Coast rappers, but time heals everything. Now, I’m friends with Tha Dogg Pound. I’m friends with Snoop Dogg. I’m in Los Angeles all the time. But that was way down the line.
You have to understand that when it came to Snoop, we didn’t have any “beef” to squash, especially after Biggie and Pac were murdered. Once we started hanging out with West Coast artists, we knew that beef was over — and I believe the media hyped it up more than it needed to be, to be honest. No life is worth losing over some rap beef.
For a brief period, you and Prodigy weren’t on the best of terms. You even engaged in a bit of a Twitter (now X) back-and-forth that left many fans — myself included — bewildered. Looking back on all of it now, what was the issue at hand, and how did you guys resolve it?
Prodigy and I have known each other for so long, we’re brothers. Internally, differences were brewing — but when you’re brothers, you’re going to get into arguments and disagreements, but at the end of the day, you still love one another, and you’re going to work things out.
It was never meant to spill over into the public. And I take responsibility for that. I expressed myself publicly at a time when I shouldn’t have been near any electronic devices, you know what I’m saying? I was drinking, and you’re emotional when you’re drinking — but when I was sober, I realized what I was doing was wrong.
I’m not going to go on record to say what we were beefing about, but at the time, I thought it was valid. Prodigy and I squashed it a year later, though — we knew it was bad for business, plus, we’d known each other for too long to let it go on like this.
Let’s touch a little bit on the G-Unit years. There’s a lot that you did with the label — and you’d already had that relationship with 50 Cent before the signing. So, tell us what you learned during the G-Unit era about the business, hip-hop, and so on.
I’d begun working on a solo album, and the late Chris Lighty was my manager. He’d told me about this young dude named 50 Cent, and I heard some of his stuff and I was blown away.
I’d told Lighty that I wanted to work with Fif, and 24 hours later, I had him in my studio. At the time, he told me how much he’d admired Mobb Deep, while also hinting that he was considering working with Eminem and Dr. Dre, as they’d shown some interest. He’d even asked me what I thought he should do!
Well, my solo album never came out. Years later, when Mobb Deep got shifted around from label to label, and got dropped from Jive Records, Fif had already sold 10 million records with Get Rich or Die Tryin’. And I didn’t believe that he’d even remember me — but when he heard what happened, he called me up and said he wanted to sign Mobb Deep.
Prodigy initially didn’t want to do it, but he changed his mind once he sat down with 50 Cent. The rest, as they say, is history. I was so pleased to be down with a crew that had sold so many records. But a lot of our fans, at the time, was hatin’ on it. They thought we’d sold out.
I don’t even know where to begin with this, but: let’s talk about Prodigy’s death. It was a gut punch to me, and I can’t imagine how it was for you. Where did you find the resolve to take on the responsibility of being the torch-bearer for all things Mobb Deep once Prodigy was gone?
I found it while I was thinking about Prodigy. I was thinking about him, and I was saying, “If God forbid, the shoe was on the other foot, he’d be moving forward.” He’d be celebrating the Mobb Deep legacy. I don’t think he’d want Mobb Deep to fall to the wayside. He’d be missing me like crazy, but he’d be taking Mobb Deep to the next level.
With that, I found the resolve. I then thought about the supporters, and how they deserved one last Mobb Deep project. And I’m gonna make sure that happens because I don’t want to be the one that fumbled the ball just because Prodigy isn’t here. I’m the one who has to make sure that the masses hear it.
And this is the last Mobb Deep album. At least, for now. There are still plenty of Mobb Deep verses to go around, but that’s not for me to decide. I spoke to the estate about this album, and this album only. That’s where my focus is.
So, after this final Mobb Deep hurrah, what is next for Havoc?
There are a lot of things I want to get involved with — documentaries, film scoring, getting my label off the ground, mentoring young artists — that I don’t think I’ll ever be bored. No, there won’t be any Mobb Deep anymore, but there’s still Havoc. And that’s my legacy.
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