MC Shy D, Mr.

Collipark, DJ Toomp and DJ Jelly explain the origins of

Atlanta’s bass scene

August 25, 2016

By Star Eyes

From the booty shake to trap to crunk and beyond, Atlanta’s contribution to bass music
culture is undeniable. Over the course of the next four weeks on RBMA Radio, Star Eyes
AKA Vivian Host explores the city’s bass origins with MC Shy D, Mr. Collipark, DJ Toomp
and DJ Jelly on United States of Bass: Atlanta. In advance of the first show’s premiere, we’ve
put together a collection of quotes from the artists involved, giving insight into some key
players, important moments and interesting locales integral to the musical history of the Dirty
South bass sound.

DJ Smurf - Drop Like This Bitch

Ichiban Records
Founded in 1985, Ichiban was the one of the city’s first important independent rap and bass
music labels, boasting artists like Hard Boyz, Kilo Ali and MC Breed along with rock and
soul artists.

Mr. Collipark

I started making records in 1994. The first one was a record called “Drop Like This Bitch.” I
was Shy D’s DJ at the time, with Ichiban Records. That was like Motown here in Atlanta back
then.

DJ Toomp

Ichiban was like the Macola of Atlanta, you know? They basically covered the South. A lot of
bass artists started coming through here after awhile, just started emerging. We had the Kizzy
Rock, we had Smurf [AKA Mr. Collipark] – he was with the J Team. Smurf started
producing.

Mr. Collipark

[Ichiban] was everything. Going up to Kennesaw, you got off the exit, you made the left and
you made the right and it was this big white building. It was run by a couple – in the good
days they were a couple – John and Nina Abbey. Everybody was there. When I got there – of
course, I got my deal through Shy D – Kilo was there, MC Breed was there, 95 South was
there, Vanilla Ice was there (right before he blew). I heard stories that some kind of crazy
stuff happened and they didn’t get “Ice, Ice Baby.”

This is one thing about Ichiban that was cool. Me and my lawyer was laughing about this. He
called me petty for looking forward to these... If you sold 100,000 records on Ichiban you got
a silver plaque. Nobody sold platinum back then, nobody went gold. Of course, they had a
couple of artists that lucked up and did it, but it wasn’t as common as it is now. If you sold
100,000 records you got a silver plaque, which looked like a platinum plaque. It hung up in
the lobby when you walked in. I never got one. That was my dream, though.

MC Shy D - Shake It

MC Shy D
Widely regarded as the first big-name rapper in Atlanta (alongside Mojo and Hard Boyz),
Pete “MC Shy D” Jones brought the NYC sound and culture to ATL in the early ’80s.
Working with producers like Kool Collie, DJ Man, Mike Fresh, DJ Toomp and DJ Smurf, Shy
D made enduring ATL hits like the Pink Panther-sampling “Rapp Will Never Die,” Miami
bass classic “Shake It” and “Work It Out.”

MC Shy D

I’m from the Bronx River projects in NYC. When I got to Atlanta, it was strictly R&B.
“Rapper’s Delight” hadn’t came out yet, so Atlanta wasn’t up on no rap music. I think they
might have started playing rap on the radio about 1982 in Atlanta. Basically everything was
R&B. Me, being from the Bronx, I gave them a feel of hip-hop before hip-hop hit in Atlanta.
 MC Shy D Loren Purcell

I could tell people now, but I kept it a secret back then... I used to listen to the New York rap
records and do them in my own way at a faster tempo down here. Prime example: LL Cool J
had a record called “That’s a Lie.” I made a record called “I’m Not a Star,” me and Kool
Collie. Basically, I bit my whole career off of New York. I just took the New York stuff and
did it in my own Southern way.

Mr. Collipark

I was DJing for Shy D. It’s funny, the setup was two turntables and two SP-1200 drum
machines. When I think about it now, I don’t know how I did that, because it was live. There
was no room for error. Even thinking about it now, I don’t know. All the stuff that was going
on in his records, the samples that he used... He had the records marked, and it was marked on
the drum machines. In the shows, we would scratch that stuff in live. The stuff that was on the
record, we did live... He had everything timed so well.
This is what was dope about Shy D that I think that he has over everybody from that era: his
New York roots, which turned him onto a part of hip-hop that we didn’t get a chance to
experience down here. He brought that to the Southern music. When I learned up under him, I
got some of those lessons. I think that’s why some of my success turned out the way it was. I
had values of the art form of hip-hop that a lot of people don’t have.

Raheem (The Dream) And DJ Toomp – The Rahim Twins

DJ Toomp
MC Shy D

When we was in high school, DJ Toomp started coming out to Decatur, because he lived a
long ways away, out in Ben Hill. Everybody was like, “There’s this DJ, this dude be taking
off his shoes, scratching with his shoes.” They wanted me to battle Toomp. I was like, “I
don’t know how to take off my shoes or nothing.” Basically I met him at a high school, and
we battled that night. Toomp, no joke, had to be about 13 or 14. I was like, “This young boy is
dope.”

DJ Toomp

Raheem The Dream heard about me, and he started having me to come DJ at some of his
parties in Atlanta. When we went in and made the first song, I did all the artwork on the
record, too. It changed when I got with Shy D. That’s when I started DJing on the road, and I
was able to save some money to get my own drum machine. I had a SP-1200, because he had
one, but I knew I needed one for myself, just to get better. Mike Fresh ended up getting one
too. Then we went to Miami. [2 Live Crew producer] Mr. Mixx had a SP-1200 and he had the
808, which is a classic. Mixx was like the Mannie Fresh of Luke’s Skyywalker Records.

MC Shy D - Rapp Will Never Die

Atlanta and Miami

The two hubs of the music industry in the South are deeply intertwined as far as bass music is
concerned. In the mid-’80s, 808-heavy Miami bass records by the likes of 2 Live Crew and
MC A.D.E. were a huge influence on the Atlanta sound, which ultimately sped up the breaks
and added a heavy R&B influence.

Mr. Collipark

When Shy D went to Miami, obviously he got influenced by what was down there, so the
tempo of his records sped up, and I guess we all just followed suit.

MC Shy D

I had signed to 4 Sight Records out of Fort Lauderdale around 1985. A gentleman by the
name of Billy Hines, MC A.D.E.’s dad, owned the label. Believe it or not, Atlanta wasn’t
doing anything back then. I didn’t want to be just a local rapper, I wanted to be international.
Mr. Collipark

As a DJ, anything you saw on the 4 Sight label – MC A.D.E., KJ and Da Fellas, “Get
Retarded,” which is a classic record – or any of those Miami or Fort Lauderdale record label
imprints, you just bought it. That was it.

MC Shy D

I did a show with the 2 Live Crew at a club somewhere in Florida and Fresh Kid Ice stepped
to me and he was like, “Yo, man. Luke likes your style. He wants you to come over and get
on the label with us.” I said, “Yo, when my contract runs out, tell Luke I’ll definitely get in
touch with him.”

Mr. Collipark

How could you be from Atlanta and not be into booty bass music back in the late ’80s and
early ’90s? That’s all we knew. For me, it came from the first time I heard 2 Live Crew
“Throw the Dick” at a house party. Prior to that it was Run-D.M.C. and stuff like that. I
remember being at a house party and “Throw the Dick” came on and my life changed at that
moment. The way the 808 was hitting in that record.

We all know about “Planet Rock” and all that, but we didn’t hear the 808. Even the West
Coast Egyptian Lover-type stuff wasn’t sounding like that Miami bass music. Then when it
got to the DJ part with Mr. Mixx scratching those comedy records into those breaks, it was
just like, “What the fuck, man?” The way these kids probably listen to Future and all that
now, that’s what that was like for me back in the day. From then, anything you saw with Luke
Skyywalker Records on it, you just bought it.

Luke - I Wanna Rock (Doo Doo Brown)

DJ Toomp

With Miami, it was a certain way that that 808 was driving, like Clay D. They had better
mixes coming out of there. One thing about Atlanta, we had some decent mixes, but you
could tell ours just from the drum roll. There was lots of “Planet Rock” samples and “Clear”
samples way in the background. Got to give a shout-out to my man from here, Kenny
“Devastator” Terry. He produced Luke’s “I Wanna Rock,” and Poison Clan’s “Shake
Whatcha Mama Gave Ya.” He definitely was on some 140 BPM type shit.

Atlanta booty shake records, really that shit kind of started from dances, talent shows and
whatnot. Just imagine a song like “Planet Rock.” Originally, that’s like 127, 128 BPM. Guys
dancing in talent shows, they want it faster. Sometimes they want it at 45. We just had to
speed it up to make the dance routine tapes. All of a sudden, we noticed that in clubs, girls
wanted to shake they butts and then you had the guys who was yeeking. They wanted the
records faster.

It got to the point where it really went from 128 BPM to like 140. It was just undeniable. Even
grown people get out there and shake their ass when it come on. It’s amazing because it
seemed like it was running parallel, because in Miami they wanted they stuff real fast, too.
DJ Jelly

Atlanta bass music is more melodic, it’s more R&B-ish. It’s more female-friendly.

Mr. Collipark

I think the Atlanta bass sound is a polished Miami bass sound. I think we were putting our
records together a little more sophisticated, if I can say it that way. They started it, then we
took some elements out of it. You’ve got more musicianship around here, so I think all of that
kind of influenced the records when we made them. When you start looking at [records like
Ghost Town DJs] “My Boo,” that was an offspring of our mixtapes. Our mixtapes were
heavily mixing slow records with fast records. Like “Planet Rock” with [R&B artist] Levert.
Those were influences on our records. Miami, that was just drums and bass, just hardcore. I
think that was the difference.

We would take the 808 drum machine and we would program the beats and we would sweep
all the low-end out the ballads, like Charlie Wilson or Teena Marie. A series of tapes that
were probably one of my biggest was called Slow Jams. We would be putting the 808 beats
onto those ballads.

Ghost Town DJs - My Boo

Then we stumbled on the fast and the slow, because the ballads were half the tempo of
“Planet Rock.” That was huge for us. Carl Mo, who produced “My Boo” with Kool Collie,
was “the Ghost Town DJs.” He told me my mixtapes was his main influence for “My Boo.”

DJ Jelly

DJ Smurf – who was part of the J Team [a team of DJs put together by Atlanta mixtape
legend King Edward J], was a huge influence. They would take slow music and mix it with
fast beats. So you might have a record that’s 132 BPM then mix a slow song which was half
that beat. So those elements of those R&B songs aligned with those hard electro-bass drums
created this kind of Atlanta sound. I would do 90-minute mixtapes with nothing but slow and
fast music.

Magic City
For the last three decades, Magic City has transcended being a mere strip club to become one
of the most important meeting places for the rap industry in Atlanta, and the place where
records from Kilo Ali to Ying Yang Twins to Future have been broken, thanks to DJs like Jelly
and Esco.

DJ Jelly

What’s the importance of the White House to DC? Where do you want to start? [Magic City]
is just that critical and that integral as far as the culture of the Atlanta streets. That
encompasses music, politics, wherever you want to start... Sports, entertainment, it doesn’t
matter, this is where we all meet up. I’m talking about all walks of life. This is the golf course
of Atlanta, this is where everybody meet and talk; very important.
Dominique Wilkins, legendary basketball player. Bill Campbell, politician. Kilo Ali, I saw
him fresh out of high school pushing his vinyl. Coming up, he wasn’t even supposed to be in
the club. I seen everybody in there, all the bass artists: Raheem the Dream, Shy D, Toomp,
everybody just come through there and just kick it.

Magic City was actually my first introduction into the Atlanta scene. That was my first DJ
gig, around 1991. Every bass artist was making most of their tracks based off of the drums in
“Planet Rock,” so “Planet Rock” still was a big song in strip clubs. Then you had people like
Kilo Ali with “Cocaine,” which was an incredible anthem at that time. He was talking about
all the street boys in the ATL.

Kilo Ali - Nasty Dancer

Kilo Ali
Taking ATL by storm in the ’90s, hometown hero Kilo Ali was a magnetic bass music artist,
behind freaky strip club anthems like “Nasty Dancer,” “Baby Baby” and “Love In Ya
Mouth.”

Mr. Collipark

Kilo Ali was Andre 3000 before Andre 3000 to me. He was so ahead of where music was in
this market. We didn’t know you could be creative in that way. We did booty shake bass
music, but Kilo was already on some Parliament tip. He didn’t dress like that, but I’m just
saying in his mind he was a rock star always. He would say some crazy shit to you just out of
leftfield.

I rapped on my albums, but I was a DJ, basically. I never considered myself a rapper, but I got
props in that time for being able to rap. I remember being in this club, I think it was on
Marietta Street, and Kilo walked up and stood next to me and just looked over at me and said,
“Smurf, you know you can’t fuck with me, don’t you?” I looked over at him like, “What the
fuck are you talking about?” That was him back then. He carried himself on this whole other
plane… For me, I was like, “What the hell are you on?” That’s Kilo for you.

To this day, I say if he had a crew that could have helped make him what he really was, he
would have been one of the really, really great artists to come out of this market. He could
still be making great music right now.
 DJ Jelly Loren Purcell

Mixtapes
DJ mixtapes have been integral to the culture of Southern rap for nearly three decades, ever
since Edward J began slanging his cult classic J-Tapes out of Landrum’s Records & More in
the early ’80s. Mixtapes have been the primary way to seed underground hits to the streets
(and then to the radio) and have had great influence on the sound and promotion of genres
like crunk, booty bass, snap music and trap.

DJ Jelly

I started carving my way, really, when I met MC Assault. We created a very important
mixtape that ruled Atlanta for 15 years following that and influenced everybody from DJ
Drama to Scream. We basically put down hip-hop in Atlanta because it wasn’t being played
on the radio. With our tapes we would blend all different genres. We would make a gangster
tape, a booty shake tape, a slow tape with the bass.
We sold them at flea markets and then we actually started putting our money into storefronts.
At that time, we created a label, Big Oomp Records. Big Oomp is the first independent hip-
hop label in Atlanta period, hands-down. It’s basically the model for every label you can think
of now as far as rap music. We had the combination of DJs, radio and we had the store, so we
had a whole conglomerate. We helped basically everybody in Atlanta, pretty much. We had
that thing going on and then Freaknik came, and the combination of Magic City, our tapes and
Freaknik just changed the face of Atlanta’s hip-hop.

Freaknik
From 1983 to 1999, Freaknik was a huge black spring break party, drawing attendees all
over the South and the East Coast, including many celebrities and the most popular acts of
the day. It is referenced in songs from Andre 3000, Jermaine Dupri, Too $hort and Lil Kim,
among many others.

Mr. Collipark

When I explain the Freaknik to people, you forget how crazy it was.

DJ Jelly

Freaknik was originally a celebration of black sororities and fraternities where they would
come and meet up. Eventually all of the black colleges around the United States started
coming and hanging out at spring break time.

Luke, 69 Boyz, Rickey Smiley, a lot of the Memphis artists at that time, Tommy Wright:
They all did concerts. Big tour buses would pull up and we would just hang out with all the
artists during that time during the early ’90s, mid-’90s. We would be barbecuing and just
shooting the shit, really, networking. That was our networking at that time.

Mr. Collipark

To me, it was just a fun time before it got commercialized. I would say ’95 was the last year
before everybody said, “We’re going to Freaknik next year.” To me, when that happens and
then everybody shows up, it fucks it up.

The only bad thing about Freaknik is that some of us didn’t know how to act, so it was a lot of
inappropriate things going on. Like when the cars was all backed up and the girls are just
sitting there and you’ve got dudes who have been drinking and smoking and doing all this
shit... Certain things happened that put a bad light on Freaknik.

It was too country for a lot of people. I’m talking about going as close to the Carolinas.
People were like, “What is that bullshit?”

DJ Toomp

DJ Jelly
Stopping in the middle of the street. Not just cruising, but stopping and partying right in the
middle. Traffic jams. Pulling out their speakers. Naked girls falling out of the Jeeps. Dudes
even getting naked. It was retarded. I’m sure there was some robbery here and there.

MC Shy D

Man, they started killing people, raping girls, and it got crazy. Carjacking, dudes coming from
out of town with them sharp cars. It got crazy. It got ugly. These guys killed a couple of
college kids, and I was like, “That’s it for me.”

OutKast - Elevators (Me & You)

Outkast, Goodie Mob and Southern Pride

Southern hip-hop was generally looked at with disdain or ignored altogether by the industry
until Outkast became the first rap artists signed to L.A. Reid’s pioneering black urban label
LaFace. The release of their first album, Southernplayalisticadillacmuzik – followed by Dirty
South, the era-defining debut from their Dungeon Family friends Goodie Mob – bolstered
Southern pride, while showing the rest of the world a glimpse of what was really going down
in Georgia.

DJ Toomp

I would travel on the road as a DJ during the mid-’90s and [the South] was still ridiculed as
far as the sound of the music. It was too country for a lot of people. I’m talking about going as
close to the Carolinas. People were like, “What is that bullshit?” It was still a struggle, but in
terms of economics people were buying the music. They thought it was still not cool to admit
that Southern music was actually pretty good.

MC Shy D

When we was out, me and 2 Live, we’d go to New York and we damn near was two seconds
from getting booed. We was on the tour with the Fat Boys, Heavy D, Salt-N-Pepa, some New
York groups, and shit, they used to act like we weren’t even on the fucking tour. You know
what I’m saying? They put us way over here in the dressing room, and all the New Yorkers
over there. They treated us like shit.

Outkast and Goodie Mob, though, I think they had came out ‘93 or ’94 – they came out with
the lyrics, and they made people feel good about being from Atlanta, because Atlanta really
had no idea. When we was young, we was in the ’80s, everybody wanted to be from New
York. Then when the Jheri curls and stuff came out, everybody wanted to be from California.
Atlanta had a style, but they wouldn’t use it. They was biting off of everybody else. Outkast
made people feel good.

Mr. Collipark

I was one of the first music people to come out of College Park in Atlanta. Jermaine Dupri
came out of it, but I feel like he was exposed to the mainstream music business so early that
he didn’t really put it to the forefront the way some of us who came after him. For me, I
couldn’t imagine Jermaine Dupri trying to walk Ying Yang Twins into Columbia and say,
“Yo, this the shit down in Atlanta.” They like, “What the fuck is that, Jermaine?” Coming up
with the Ichibans and all that, we had to get it out the mud, as they say. We had to make
something out of nothing.

T.I. - Dope Boyz

T.I.
Clifford Joseph Harris Jr. – better known as TIP, T.I. or King of the South – went from being
a street hustler and barber to one of the South’s best-known rappers. Following his 2001
debut I’m Serious, he became known as one of the early architects of the trap sound with
2003’s Trap Muzik, both crafted with the help of longtime producer DJ Toomp.

DJ Toomp

I met T.I. in 1997 through his cousin Toot. Me and Toot used to run around. I’ve been
knowing Toot since fourth grade. He’s from Bankhead, but he end up growing up in our
neighborhood. We started getting a little extra money together, you know, creeping through
the neighborhood. You know what I mean? He used to always tell me – just when we’d take a
break – he’s like, “Yo, I got this little cousin. You need to hear him.” You know how
everybody always say they got a relative that could rap or whatnot, but when I heard him, I
was blown away.
 DJ Toomp Loren Purcell

I remember seeing him at Toot’s barbershop. Toot had a license but Tip, he didn’t have a
license. I’ve cut hair too with no license. I’ve been cutting hair since I was 12! Matter of fact,
I was cutting him and the whole Poison Clan’s hair when they was getting hot or whatnot. I
still do a wicked fade.

When I met Tip, I was rapping. I had a song called “Ball Like This” and he was featured on it.
I did it on the Roland 1680. You remember the little digital machine? When I met him, I was
like, “Yo, I want you to get on this record that I just did.” When I started playing it for people,
they were like, “Yeah dog, you went in.” The minute his part come on, they were like, “Who
the fuck is that?” He was really rapping some good stuff.

After a while, I was like, “Let me fall back. I ain’t ready to be no rapper, we gonna do it
right.” I saw the reaction. The minute that we really just went in and started recording his
records only, just with him – I’m talking about unmixed, straight off of a DAT, just pure 2-
track versions of it – people lost their mind when I played it, because they never really heard
nobody with a Southern drawl that could come so lyrical with those type of patterns. You
know what I mean? Just jump-roping all in between the beat, not that basic bouncing-ball type
rap. He was really flowing, so that’s what blew everybody away. Blew me away.

Ying Yang Twins

Kaine and D-Roc were the unlikely duo Ying Yang Twins, whose bonkers hits with producers
Mr. Collipark and Lil Jon – like “Salt Shaker,” “Whistle While You Twurk” and “Wait (The
Whisper Song)” – made their name synonymous with the crunk movement.

Mr. Collipark

D-Roc [from Ying Yang Twins] was on Ichiban Records and he was over there by himself
with no guidance. He was a kid. I felt sorry for him. I was like, “Yo. Why don’t you hook me
up with D-Roc and maybe I can do something on this project?” We wound up doing a swap-
out. I did a track for his Ichiban album, and in return, he was supposed to get on my Dead
Crunk album, which was my return to Ichiban Records. He fell out with his partner at the time
and brought Kaine in, and they did a record on Dead Crunk album called “One on One.” That
was the introduction to the Ying Yang Twins.

I said to myself, “Shit, if Raheem can do it [with Drama], I can do it [with Ying Yang
Twins].”

Mr. Collipark

To this day, when I hear that record I get chill bumps. It wasn’t no twerk shit. They had every
No Limit album. That was their influence at that particular time. They had come in from the
Hard Boyz, which was the first street Atlanta rap group that I know of, so I was like, “Well,
we going to do a half-time, fast, gangsta record.”

Around that time, Raheem the Dream was the first bass dude to put on his business hat and
say, “I’m about to go national with this shit.” He found DJ Drama and wound up getting
Drama a deal on Atlantic Records. I saw that shit, my mind was blown. I didn’t even know
that was possible because he did it so quick. I said to myself, “Shit, if Raheem can do it, I can
do it.” I still got the notebook where I called him and he told me the markets. I followed
Raheem’s plan with Ying Yang Twins.

It was a lot of chitlin circuit, back roads between here and Macon, here and Augusta, here and
Columbus, Georgia, hitting those B markets. Before I knew it, I was hitting it with “Whistle
While You Twurk.” Before I knew it, we were getting a call from Universal. That was it.

Ying Yang Twins - Whistle While You Twurk

Mr. Collipark

Most of the songs that the Ying Yang Twins come up with start out as jokes. They some
funny guys, like, real tears coming out your eyes, stomach-hurting funny. A lot of the shit, we
just be joking. I remember Kaine... I don’t even think we were talking about making a record
the first time he said, “Go ’head and start and make that pussy fart.” He would make this
sound with mouth. “Pft.” He would just do that over and over again. I was like, “Hey, man.
That shit funny as hell.” I said, “We going to make a song with that.”
The beat for “Whistle While You Twurk” I had originally done as a Miami bass track. It was
like 138 BPM. It was like “Planet Rock.” I slowed it down to 102. The most popular song in
the club at that time was “Down 4 My Ni--as,” and “Back that Ass Up” was an influence.
Whenever that song would come on, the ugly face, the stank face would come on. I was like,
“Shit.”

I never knew what KLC, [who produced “Down 4 My Ni--as”], did to that 808. If you listen
to that fucking record, KLC does something with that 808 to where it just keeps dropping on
the turnaround. Every time it turns around, it’s subtle, but something else comes in or goes out
of that low-end. What I did that I had never done before, ever, I took my 808 on my SP-12
down like six or eight octaves to a tone that usually didn’t register for me. (The 808 I used, by
the way, was the 808 I got from MC Shy D that he used in “Shake It.” That was the 808 I
used in all my records back then. Shout-out to Shy D.)

I slowed that track down and I took some noises from records that I ain’t going to say. All that
was slowed down Miami bass and we didn’t know at the time that we were coming up with a
sound. You know what I mean? I didn’t know about making no gangsta shit or street music or
whatever. I just know that booty shake was out the door. I couldn’t put a group out in 2000 or
1999 doing booty shake music, so I slowed it down and we put it out.

I was so scared to put out that type of record in the midst of all the street shit. I never forget
the first time I played it in Magic City before it got mastered. That shit came on... I couldn’t
hear the 808 because of the tone I had it at, I had it pushed up in the mix so loud that it almost
blew the shit up when it came on. I said, “Damn.” They started dancing.

When I got it mastered, Glenn Schick – the most proper, technical guy ever on the mastering
tip – he took and squashed all my low-end. He squashed all the bass out the mix, but it came
out perfect. All the high-end. You could play “Whistle While You Twurk” now, sonically,
and it holds up to anything that’s out right now. Shout out to Glenn Schick.
 Mr. Collipark Loren Purcell

Lil Jon and the Twins

A DJ, producer, and erstwhile A&R for Jermaine Dupri's pioneering So So Def label, Lil Jon
has always had his finger on the pulse of what will pop in the club. The “King of Crunk”
linked up with Eastside Boyz and Ying Yang Twins to create the most memorable crunk hits of
the early 2000s, including “Get Low” and “Salt Shaker,” with Jon’s “To the window, to the
wall” refrain originating from an old DJ Smurf demo.

MC Shy D

Everybody loved Lil Jon. He was just a happy guy. He one of them guys, he step in the room,
you can’t do nothing but love him, because he’s a good guy.

Mr. Collipark
When Lil Jon started making albums, he would approach it like a DJ and get songs from
every pocket. He’d do a bass song, some low-tempo stuff for the thugs. When he went into
the Kings of Crunk album, he wanted to do a record with Ying Yang. I trusted Jon as a
producer, so I didn’t need to sit off in the studio with him or nothing like that. They just went
in and they created some magic.

A lot of people couldn’t even talk to Ying Yang Twins, they were so fucking wild. They’d
think they want to meet them, but then after like five or ten minutes in the room they’d be
shaking, like, “Yo, can you get them to go over there and stand in the booth?” I’m like, “Yo, I
got this man.” Jon could communicate with them where a lot of other people couldn’t.

Before they even put out a record, when I would take them on the road with me, they would
take their shirts off and just run around the fucking club. Like, “Aaaaaaah.” That was them.
“Aaaaaaah.” When people met them, that was them. We missed out on some money behind
that shit, too. A lot of times people don’t know how to take that. From a cultural aspect, that
was some real shit. They connected. When they spoke, they spoke to those other kids their
age. I was older than them so I just liked being around them, the energy that they would bring.
That was Ying Yang.

You know what’s funny? I’m going to give you a piece that a lot of people don’t know. Kaine
– the one with the deep voice, the guy who does the hooks on most of the records – he’s one
of the most knowledgeable music people you’re ever going to meet in your life. You sit down
and talk music with Kaine, you would never think that he made booty music.