The history of Southside Jamaica, Queens, is a narrative often told in whispers, coded language, and the cold geometry of police paperwork. It is a world where loyalty is the ultimate currency and betrayal carries a sentence far heavier than any judge’s gavel. For decades, the legend of the Supreme Team, and the shadows they cast over both the streets and the burgeoning rap industry, has remained a foundational, yet frequently misunderstood, chapter of American street lore.

Now, a seismic shift is occurring.

Prince Miller, a man described as one of the “top dogs” of the Supreme Team and the nephew of its legendary leader, Kenneth “Supreme” McGriff, has emerged from the fog of a 32-year prison sentence to deliver a powerful, highly anticipated, and deliberately coded message. Speaking in an interview, Miller addressed two of the most explosive controversies to ever originate from the Southside: the decades-long accusation that a prominent figure in their orbit, James “Bimmy” Antney, has been a confidential informant (CI), and his own true feelings about 50 Cent’s notorious 2000 track, “Ghetto Quran.”

The interview, captured by All Viral Access Media from the Thanks for Asking podcast, serves not merely as a conversation but as a historic moment of reckoning. Prince Miller, his voice measured and his gaze unflinching, chose not to explicitly name names. Instead, he employed a sophisticated, devastating form of verbal jiujitsu—he let the widely circulated paperwork, the history, and his own hard-won wisdom do the heavy lifting. The result is an article that is equal parts confessional, cautionary tale, and a chilling confirmation of a secret kept—or perhaps, known—for forty years.

The 40-Year Shadow: The Confidential Informant Accusation

The catalyst for this entire discussion is the recent release of a documentary titled The Supreme Truth by Supreme himself. A clip featured in the introduction sets a brutal, unsparing tone, where Supreme alleges, on the record, that James “Bimmy” Antney has been a CI for “over 40 years.” The accusation is not merely one of opportunism or mild cooperation; it is an outright statement of long-term, systemic betrayal. The evidence cited is a search warrant affidavit that allegedly describes the CI lying about two people being “kidnapped and beaten near death.”

This claim is the elephant in the room that Prince Miller, having served over three decades behind bars, is asked to address. His response is where the masterclass in street diplomacy and hard-earned philosophy begins.

Miller immediately contextualizes the past, drawing a sharp contrast between the world of 1985 and the age of social media. He notes that back then, “There was no internet. There was no Instagram… You couldn’t tell the whole world if somebody did this or did that.” Yet, he pauses before delivering a line that chills the blood: “But guess what? One thing people like we one thing we did do—we told South Jamaica and the whole South Jamaica know who’s a confidential informant, who’s a rat, and who’s an informant in any case that happened in South Jamaica, Queens.”

This is not a denial. This is a confirmation that the knowledge, the truth, has been an open secret within the community for generations, hidden only from the wider world.

When pressed directly on whether he agrees with Supreme’s take that the person named was an informant for four decades, Miller artfully evades the trap of explicit defamation while cementing the emotional truth of the situation. “First of all, if you notice, I did everything I can not to mention people’s names,” he states with careful precision. Yet, he immediately adds, “I don’t duck questions. I don’t duck questions. I’m going to answer your question.”

His answer, however, is not a simple yes or no. It is a devastating sermon on the cost of the street life and the nature of the hustlers who will betray you.

Miller announces his own upcoming podcast, where he promises that any lingering questions and anything that “podcasters are playing the 50 with” will be “expressed, cleaned up, and cleared up.” This is a definitive promise to lay the full, unexpurgated truth bare on his own terms.

But the most emotionally compelling part of his response is his explanation of his motivation, a purpose born from 32 years of reflection: “The only reason I’m doing it is because I want to educate the children, teenagers and young adults about staying away from that street life. ‘Cuz if you ain’t dedicated to it, if you ain’t prepared to do life in prison, leave that stuff alone.”

He then delivers the gut punch, the line that acts as his judgment on the accused CI: “Because you don’t want to be away from your family for the rest of your life. Because you got people who will hustle with you that will not go down with you, that are left. They don’t want to leave their children. They don’t want to leave their kids, but they don’t got no problem taking you away from your kids and your family.”

This is the code-switch masterwork. He has answered the question without uttering a name. He has confirmed that the betrayal he suffered, the 32 years he spent away, was due to someone who “will not go down with you,” a perfect, damning description of an informant. The paperwork, the history, and the pain all point to the same conclusion, and Prince Miller has given his final, sorrowful blessing to the narrative.

The interviewer follows up by stressing the gravity of the documentation: “We all read the goddamn files man. When uh uh it said the CI informant worked in the music industry and at that same time you were working in the music industry. It was you.” The implication is not just that Bimmy was an informant, but that his position in the music industry—a known fact—was a critical piece of the puzzle that the paperwork confirmed. The streets of Southside Jamaica Queens have found their verdict.

The Unbothered King: The Truth About “Ghetto Quran”

The weight of the CI controversy gives way to another historic question: How does Prince Miller truly feel about 50 Cent’s 2000 track, “Ghetto Quran,” which was widely criticized as a “snitching” track because it detailed historical events and allegedly called out Miller as “the killer”?

For over two decades, this song has been a lightning rod in hip-hop, a foundational text in the conversation about 50 Cent’s street credibility and the unwritten laws of the block. Prince Miller’s answer is perhaps the biggest surprise of the entire interview.

“In the Ghetto Quran, when I heard about it, I felt he was doing what a lot of rappers do: he was giving people, you know, they props,” Miller states plainly. He acknowledges that he should be “the one most offended,” since he was the person identified as “the killer.”

His complete lack of offense stems from a deep, almost philosophical resignation and the legal reality of his life. “I wasn’t offended because I was charged with killing people and I was found not guilty. So why would I be offended if I was found not guilty?” he asks, dropping a mic on decades of hip-hop debate.

His acquittal, in his mind, renders the words of a rapper entirely toothless. A mere perception expressed in a verse cannot undo the verdict of a court, especially when that court found him innocent. “I’m not going to get mad ‘cuz he was giving some words and giving some props. It doesn’t bother me like that.”

In a final, shocking admission, he confesses, “Shit, I kind of liked the song.” He dismisses the “snitching” perception as nothing more than “spin,” reinforcing his view that “the whole Southside” knew the reality, and the song was simply acknowledging that reality. What he appreciated, he states, was that 50 Cent gave credit to the place they came from: “When you hear talking the Southside, you hear talking the team. Yeah, I like that. That joint was official.”

This declaration is an exoneration of 50 Cent from the perspective of the man most directly affected, a critical piece of street history that will undoubtedly reshape the conversation around one of the most controversial songs in rap history.

A Return for the Sake of the Children

Prince Miller’s interview is more than a recap of street feuds; it is a clear-eyed look at the high cost of a criminal life and a direct plea to the next generation. Having paid 32 years of his life to the penitentiary system, his focus has shifted from the drama of the past to the education of the future. His upcoming podcast is set to be the definitive final word, an authoritative voice from a man who has seen every side of the game—the loyalty, the betrayal, the consequences, and the enduring power of history.

His message about the “hustlers” who will take you away from your family is a powerful coda to the Bimmy CI allegations. His calm dismissal of the Ghetto Quran controversy is a final, definitive period on a famous rap beef. Prince Miller has returned, not as a king of the streets, but as a sage warning against them, and the foundation of the Supreme Team’s history is shaking once again as the truth, one hard-won lesson at a time, is finally being laid bare.