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COMING KINGS

“The Royal Fraternity”

Here’s one to grow with: A celebrity’s early philosophy is subject to change. It’s inevitable. Blame it on the fame, the stifling adulation of a million disciples genuflecting at their every croon, couplet, rim-rocking dunk, executive decision, investment know-how or breakthrough on-screen performance. But in most cases, time and experience are the true culprits of philosophical modification. (KING is certain that past and present Coming KING Kanye Westm for example, has updated some of his ideologies in the last two years.) This year’s Coming KINGs offer candid takes on their careers and lives—most of them before the money and groupies pile up. So KING started the sentences you’ll read below and fraternity members completed them on impulse. Some of these men—dressed in their Sunday best—may feel the same two years from now. Others will look back and recognize their own evolution.

Terrence Howard

Justification for summons: The vastly underrated thespian has waited in the proverbial wings long enough. His scene-stealing bits in Dead Presidents, The Best Man and the Oscar-winning Ray shot him to the top of Hollywood’s Rolodex. In the chamber is his riveting performance as a low-level pimp-turned-rapper in the buzz-heavy indie flick Hustle & Flow.
I came into the business
to do music [laughs]. I did The Jackson 5: An American Dream  because I knew I would be playing one of the Jackson’s and be around music people. I was singing songs to Jermaine Jackson on set. Berry Gordy made the mistake of saying hi to me, man. The looks on their faces were like, “Would somebody please call security!’”

Saigon

Jusitification for summons: Twenty-six-year-old Saigon, set to release The Greatest Story Never Told via Just Blaze’s Fort Knox Entertainment, is a rarity: a conscious yet hardened thug more concerned with causing change than stacking it.


You won’t hear me
miseducating the youth. If you’re going to promote sex in a song, let them know that STDs are real. I hear, “I’ll let you lick the lollipop,” but not one verse of that song mentions using condoms.

Moises de la Renta

Justification for summons: Great stock and balls. His pops is world-renowned fashion designer Oscar de la Renta. But rather than relying on the family hook-up, Moises started off by interning in Phat Farm’s sales department. Now the enterprising 21-year-old is heading up a line in the house of de la Renta and is set to drop his own Moises de la Renta tag in the spring of ’05.
There was a time in my life
when I felt a significant amount of pressure because of my last name, I’m always going to be Moises de la Renta. It was really about me taking that step and saying, “Fuck it. I’m going to give this a shot.” This is the family business in which we’re in and I’m just going to toll my dice. I’m trying to bridge that gap between high fashion and hip-hop culture. It’s still de la Renta, it’s still a luxury good and has a classic appeal to it, but it’s young, hip-hop and rock ‘n’ roll because that’s me at the end of the day.

 


   
Features  

LURCH

“Appetite For Destruction”

Given the choice, Antron Singleton’s last walk as a free man would not have been butt-naked down Figueroa Street in South Central.

The man formerly known as West Coast rapper Big Lurch, flying high on PCP,  was en route from West 107th Street to 109th Street. The three-block stroll, neither lengthy nor scenic, showcased a man in a state of shock.

At slightly past 2 p.m. on April 10, 2003, he lumbered down the steps of a two-story apartment complex at 10728 Figueroa Street and headed south. Staring blankly toward the sky, he trudged past Gil’s Liquor, a concrete shoebox plastered with Hennessy ads and signs boasting $7.99 Tecate 12-packs. His unusual journey would end a block later, near a spare-car-parts shop.

Officer Melvin Hernandez and his partner were coasting on 108th Street toward Figueroa in their black-and-white LAPD prowler. As they approached the intersection, the officers were startled by Singleton, completely naked, on the right-hand curb. A woman in a nearby vehicle honked her horn and gestured frantically toward him. Hernandez, then a six-year veteran who had spent time in South Central’s drug-heavy 77th Precinct, had tangled with enough PCP users to know one in sight. The officers swung a sharp left and called in a Code 6 (“out of car on investigation”).

Dried blood was visible on Lurch’s hands, chest and face. Bits of flesh clung to his mouth and goatee. Backup arrived within minutes and a bristle of service pistols and beanbag shotguns were pointed at him. Without protesting or asking any questions, lurch was soon handcuffed, lying facedown on the warm asphalt. As Singleton was ushered into a police car, a hysterical woman—later identified as a friend of the victim—rushed to the cops. “He killed her,” she screamed. “He killed her.”


 
   
Features  

KING ME: CEDRIC THE ENTERTAINER

“Ain’t No Joke”

These may be the dying days of stand-up, but looking at Cedric the Entertainer, you’d never know it. By the time this year reaches its halfway mark, the funnyman will have starred in four films (in addition to Be Cool, Man of the House, and Madagascar, Ced is playing Ralph Kramden in The Honeymooners), and his careers onstage and on celluloid show no signs of slowing. Entering the game about a decade ago, Ced, now 41, didn’t waste much time clearing his own footpath to the comedians’ Holy Land: Hollywood. Unfortunately, many of the frosh funnymen trying to travel in his footsteps are finding nothing but detours and dead ends. The Missouri native sat down with KING to discuss why the future of black comedy is no laughing matter.

On the lack of a big stage for black comedians:

“For African Americans, it used to be, ‘Let me get on Def Comedy Jam’—especially when Martin [Lawrence] was the host. Then The Tonight Show was the pinnacle, but now it makes no difference. If you’re a comic today, there’s really no place you can go and truly get your shine on, where you feel if you make this one show, you’ll blow up next time.”

Comparing the older generation of comics to his:

“For the older generation, the biggest thing was to do a Las Vegas show. They didn’t have sitcoms  for Don Rickles and Jonathan Winters. These guys were stand-up comedians who would maybe do a movie or two, but that was it. But for our generation, if you don’t have a big hit television show on a major network, or if you’re not doing film, then who are you?”

 




 





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