Miami rapper Rick Ross is the subject of a lengthy and fucking amazing profile in Gentleman's Quarterly that makes the same point that Deeper Than Rap and Teflon Don did: Rick Ross is the greatest rapper alive. That's not the same thing as being the best rapper alive — in fact, you get the idea that after having met the guy, the author could probably do without hearing Ross' music ever again.
But the point remains: Who else in hip-hop actually makes being obscenely wealthy and having your every whim catered to — i.e., the entire point of hip-hop — sound like something worth aspiring to? Let's not forget the backlash that met Watch The Throne, i.e., “How dare these rich rappers make buying a whole bunch of awesome shit sound awesome!” Ross is the one rapper holding the torch for the genre's high point, 1998, when there was so much money to be had that when Memphis Bleek went gold it was seen as a disappointment.
So while there are all kinds of gems littered within Devin Friedman's GQ interview, a good portion of it had to be cut for the sake of brevity. Here are some of the highlights we received from the member of Ross' team charged solely with leaking classified information to alt-weeklies.
GQ Quote: Ross's kitchen cabinets are filled with rations that could last six months. One is entirely stocked with Ortega taco fixings, another with cans of Manwich, another with six-packs of Yoo-hoo, another with bags of Halloween-size candy bars.
Line edit: For reasons that would remain unexplained, every two hours on the half hour, Meek Mill would breathe a long sigh, open a can of Manwich and consume its entirety using only his bare hands while Ross intently glanced at his Audemars Piguet stopwatch. He would then nod approval as Mill finishes and help himself to a fun-size Heath Bar.
GQ Quote: He bought the Atlanta house to get away and record music. It's a relatively modest house (for a man who drives a cream-colored Rolls-Royce) in a development of miniature Tudor mansions cut into the low scrub near the airport.
Line edit: Ross actually purchased the house from Collective Soul frontman Ed Roland, who was eager to move back to more rural Stockdale but unsure about the effect selling to a rapper who brags about auspicious drug dealing would have on the neighborhood. Roland's fears were allayed as Ross attempted to close the deal with a Lex Luger-produced remix of “Shine,” the guitars rendered in Luger's trademark blocky synths. Ross claimed that he had never heard of Collective Soul's chart-topper until a week prior, but was immediately taken aback by its message. “That joint spoke to my heart. I knew it was about me.”
GQ Quote: He likes to visit the Louis Vuitton store at the Lenox mall when he is in town
Line edit But after we finish shopping at Lenox, Ross demands to be taken to Phipps Plaza, the…how we say…”white mall” in Atlanta. We take the elevator up to the third floor, where Ross surveys the scene and hands down another proclamation. “This is where I find the inspiration for my rhymes, man. These kids are stackin' heavy, man. Young bosses.” One thing's for certain: Ross really loves Legoland Discovery Center, but his mood darkened when he realized that the new retail zone had forced out the Chick Fil-A.
GQ Quote: Someone has already tweeted out that Ross is going to be at the strip club. So that pump has been primed. Another of Ross's people has called ahead so that his song “Pac Man” will be playing when Ross walks in.
Line edit: Another one of Ross's people has called ahead so that a version of “No Hands” with Wale's verse edited out will be at the ready. When asked for the reasoning behind this, Ross intones, “He knows what he did.” Indeed, at Houston's Wale would repeatedly ask, “Are you sure you don't want to bring any key lime pie home? Because I'm not coming back here to pick it up like last Wednesday. Not while I have to drive this motherfucking Vespa for the rest of the month.”
GQ Quote: But the website MediaTakeout uncovered a photograph of William Leonard Roberts II when he was a Florida corrections officer. Most people thought that'd be the end of his career. Freeway Ricky Ross then sued him for stealing his name. None of it mattered. Rick Ross the rapper just sold more records.
Line edit: In fact, this past Christmas, Ross actually returned to the prison at which he formerly worked and dropped off several thousand copies of unsold Erick Onasis CDs as a token of his appreciation. When reached for comment regarding giving Ross one of his first breaks as a rapper, Erick Sermon was fucking thrilled to be reached for comment.