The tumultuous and often unforgiving landscape of hip-hop has once again been shaken by a deep-seated controversy, this time involving rap veteran Mase and Diddy’s former bodyguard, Gene Deal. A recent podcast interview has brought to light Gene Deal’s long-held frustration and anger, as he accuses Mase and others of “clowning” him and distorting the truth surrounding the tragic death of The Notorious B.I.G. The core of the dispute revolves around allegations that no one from Bad Boy Records, including security personnel, retaliated or “bust a gun” when Biggie was shot, with Mase specifically targeting what he perceives as a lack of bravery and loyalty in the face of danger.

Gene Deal, visibly emotional and infuriated in the interview, recounts how Mase, without directly naming him, made thinly veiled suggestions about Bad Boy’s security crying and seeking comfort, using phrases like “I just want to go home” and “I just want my blanket.” These mocking portrayals, according to Deal, were a direct jab at his conduct during the chaos that followed Biggie’s murder. “Niggas crying behind cars, I just want to go home, I just want to be home,” Deal mimics, expressing his disbelief at the audacity of such claims. He argues that content creators and others have since amplified these narratives, turning his professional reputation into a punchline. “These clowns out here was going to go out there and make videos, ‘I just want my blanket.’ Gene Deal was crying for the blanket, Gene Deal was this, that, and the third,” he fumes, clearly wounded by the public perception.

Deal passionately challenges Mase, asking him to “say names” if he has concrete accusations, emphasizing that as Bad Boy’s security, such broad statements unfairly tarnish his image. “You got a platform, when you do stuff like that, you understand, you got to know right now that people look at me as being Bad Boy security, so when you say stuff like that, brother, you got to be clear,” Deal asserts. He directly addresses the central accusation: “Somebody shot the biggest rapper in the world. Why nobody? Why y’all didn’t shoot back? Y’all had guns?” He argues that Mase and others who weren’t actively involved in the immediate aftermath shouldn’t be making such judgmental statements.

The conversation delves into the chaotic moments after Biggie’s shooting. Deal vividly recalls the scene, noting the shattered glass on the floor and the profound fear. He scoffs at the idea of him “crying for a blanket,” instead implying that he was actively assessing the severe threat. “I bet you really don’t want to know,” he retorts, suggesting a darker, more complex reality that Mase and his peers are choosing to simplify for public consumption. Deal recounts how Mase, along with Puff (Diddy), hastily departed the scene, leaving others to navigate the aftermath. “Puff get on a private jet, everybody gone, and M figure his way to get out of here,” Deal states, painting a picture of self-preservation among the Bad Boy elite.

A significant point of contention raised by Deal involves Mase’s foreknowledge of potential threats. Deal claims that prior to the Peterson Automotive Museum party where Biggie was killed, Mase and Stevie J attended a celebrity basketball game. There, according to Deal, Crips from the Dog Pound explicitly warned Mase and Stevie J, stating, “We want Puff and we want Big.” Deal asserts that he received similar intelligence from “Unique from Mecca Audio,” who called him to say, “Yo, vest up, you know those guys is coming to get y’all, it’s going to be some street bro letting you know that.” Deal claims he then immediately relayed this critical information to Puff. Most damningly, Deal alleges that Mase informed Puff about the threat the day before Biggie was killed, and therefore consciously chose not to attend the party himself. “Mace came back from that game, he let me know and he let Puff know, Mace told Puff, Mace told him the day before Big got killed, so Mace didn’t go to the party ’cause he knew about the threat,” Deal states, implicitly questioning Mase’s loyalty to Biggie by not sharing the warning directly with him.

The podcast also touches upon other narratives Gene Deal has shared in the past, which have been challenged by other witnesses. One such story involves a car accident Biggie was in after Tupac’s death, which Deal attributed to Biggie’s grief and being “smoked out of his mind.” However, another individual, Lil Cease, who was in the car, offers a conflicting account. Lil Cease claims the accident was due to “fucked up brakes” and a little rain, not Biggie’s emotional state or being under the influence. “I was actually there and you know so so some of the things don’t really match up in some of the kind of conspiracy theories that he has,” Lil Cease is quoted as saying, directly contradicting Deal’s version of events.

Deal also takes aim at a specific detail where Mase allegedly claimed he was “in the room with Brandy” when he heard about Biggie’s death. Deal vehemently refutes this, stating, “He was not in the room with Brandy. He wasn’t even coming out of his hotel room the next day.” Deal asserts that he had to go to Mase’s hotel room with his “principal” (likely a police officer or authority figure) to get him out because Mase was effectively “trapped” and fearing for his safety after Biggie’s death. This challenges Mase’s narrative of being a composed and proactive individual in the immediate aftermath.

The conversation also highlights Deal’s professional background, noting that he worked as a probation officer for 25 to 30 years. This detail is used to explain why Deal might not have been firing guns in street altercations – he carried a “probation officer’s gun,” which is meant to be used only in specific, regulated situations, unlike the “street security” who would be expected to retaliate with force. “You know why Jean got a probation officer’s gun, this why he don’t bust,” the interviewer notes, suggesting a fundamental difference in their roles and responsibilities compared to what Mase might imply. Deal expresses frustration that Mase’s criticisms don’t account for this distinction.

Deal expresses confusion as to why Mase continues to disparage him publicly, especially given his past role as security for Bad Boy. He questions Mase’s motives, implying that Mase is choosing to “clown” him rather than tell the complete, nuanced truth. The underlying sentiment is one of deep hurt and betrayal, as Deal feels his years of loyalty and service are being undermined by sensationalized claims that disregard the complex realities of the situations he faced. He believes Mase is leveraging his platform to create a narrative that is both inaccurate and damaging to his reputation.

The conflict serves as a stark reminder of the lingering pain and unresolved questions surrounding the deaths of hip-hop’s titans. The raw emotions expressed by Gene Deal underscore the profound impact these tragedies had, not just on the artists themselves, but on everyone in their orbit. The debate over who did what, who knew what, and who acted how, continues to fuel discussions, revealing the deep wounds that time has not yet healed within the hip-hop community. Deal’s impassioned defense of his actions and his accusation that Mase is engaging in disrespectful “clowning” adds another layer of complexity to an already tangled web of narratives surrounding one of music’s most infamous unsolved murders. Ultimately, this public spat highlights the enduring struggle for truth and accountability, and the painful ways in which history can be rewritten or misinterpreted, especially when loyalty and legacy are on the line.