The Anti-Snitch Crusader’s Downfall: How Wack 100’s Past Became Paperwork, Exposing Hip-Hop’s Biggest Alleged Fed

In the often-murky world of hip-hop, where street credibility is the ultimate currency, there is no greater condemnation than the word “snitch.” For years, Wack 100—born Kevin Leerdam—has positioned himself as the self-appointed gatekeeper of this code, the fearless custodian of street ethics who wields his Clubhouse microphone like a weapon, exposing alleged rats and demanding paperwork.

Yet, a seismic shift has occurred. The word on the street is no longer aimed by Wack 100, but directly at him. As massive Rico indictments sweep through the West Coast and rumors of federal collusion swirl, evidence is mounting that the man who built his empire on calling out informants might, in fact, be the biggest confidential informant in the game. His entire career—his chaos, his unverified accusations, and even his most infamous business partnership—is now being re-evaluated through a single, terrifying lens: is Wack 100 truly the industry’s most active, most protected, and most hypocritical Fed?

The trail of suspicion is not based on ephemeral street talk, but on documented incidents that weave a disconcerting pattern across two decades, connecting a mysteriously dismissed felony case to a celebrity kidnapping scandal and finally to the highest-profile Rico bust in recent memory.

The Smoking Gun: A Texas Felony and the “Interest of Justice”

The deepest and most damning piece of alleged evidence against Wack 100 traces back to a 2005 incident that should have landed him behind bars for years. As a convicted felon, Wack 100 and his brother were pulled over in Texas for speeding. A K9 unit alerted officers to the car, where they discovered a veritable armory: a shotgun, a rifle, and a pistol. Simply possessing these weapons as a felon meant instant, serious jail time.

Wack 100 was booked on weapon possession charges but quickly posted bail and returned to Los Angeles, where he was working with Suge Knight at Death Row Records. Fast forward three years to 2008: Wack 100’s name, or a close variation, mysteriously surfaced in federal paperwork related to a complex, explosive investigation involving NBA legend Shaquille O’Neal.

The story goes that a rapper named Stutterbox, signed to Shaq’s label, allegedly became romantically involved with Shaq’s wife and claimed to have a tape of their encounter. This led to an alleged kidnapping plot where members of the Main Street Mafia Crips were used to rough up Stutterbox. In the chaos of the ensuing investigation, wiretaps captured a conversation between Shaq’s business manager, Mark Stevens, and a supposed gang leader named “Dale.” In the call, Stevens asks, “You want to talk to Whack?”

Then came the staggering coincidence: right after Wack 100’s name—or the confidential informant listed as “Back”—appeared in the Main Street Mafia Crip paperwork, his entire 2005 Texas weapon case vanished. Wack 100 publicly claimed the case was tossed due to an illegal search, but court records told a different story. The case was formally dismissed in the “interest of justice.”

In the cold language of the legal system, that phrase is not a routine technicality. It is a rare, powerful judicial maneuver often reserved for cases where an individual has provided substantial, high-value assistance to law enforcement. For many analysts in the hip-hop community, this mysterious dismissal, perfectly timed with his appearance in federal gang paperwork, is the strongest possible circumstantial proof that Wack 100 began working with the feds as far back as 2005, feeding information to secure his own freedom.

The Big U Bust: Chaos and Self-Exposure

The long-running, public feud between Wack 100 and former gang member-turned-businessman Big U (Eugene Henley) escalated to catastrophic levels in March 2025. Big U and nearly twenty associates from the Rollins 60s were swept up in a massive Rico (Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Act) indictment.

What made the bust so compelling to the Wack 100 narrative was Big U’s own behavior. Leaked reports revealed that Big U and his crew had been pressing people to stop doing business with Wack 100 because they suspected him of being an informant. Wiretaps caught Big U talking aggressively about Wack 100, fueling the narrative that Wack 100 was acting as an institutional target.

Wack 100’s own reaction was the most suspicious element of all. He went on a rampage, not just defending himself, but aggressively attacking Big U, even exposing confidential details of an entirely separate, sensitive case: the death of rapper Rayan Williams, who was Big U’s former football player and protégé. Wack 100 claimed that he had inside information from Williams’ sister, alleging that investigators had found Big U’s DNA under the victim’s fingernails.

The public exposure of this sensitive, potentially case-breaking detail had people asking a terrifying question: How did Wack 100, an alleged civilian, know such specific, confidential information about an open investigation before it was public knowledge? For his critics, Wack 100’s desperate attempt to divert attention from his own snitching rumors only resulted in him exposing himself as someone with deep, current, and unauthorized access to federal evidence. He had, in effect, snitched on himself.

The Hypocrisy of the Manager and the Agent of Chaos

Perhaps no piece of evidence damages Wack 100’s credibility more than his professional ties. Wack 100 built his brand as the ultimate anti-snitch, yet he currently serves as the manager and business partner of Tekashi 6ix9ine, the most notorious confidential informant in hip-hop history. This one act of blatant hypocrisy stripped Wack 100 of any moral high ground, leaving fans to question whether his anti-snitch rhetoric was ever genuine or merely a shield.

Furthermore, his routine behavior on social media platforms like Clubhouse only adds fuel to the fire. Wack 100 is infamous for recording private phone calls and playing them live for his audience, a behavior that looks less like a clout-chaser and more like a systematic information gatherer.

His list of high-profile, often unproven, accusations reads like a calculated campaign to create maximum confusion and chaos. He has publicly accused legends like BG (a Cash Money original who served 11 years) of snitching, without providing the requisite paperwork he demands from others. He made wildly reckless claims against West Coast rapper Jay Diggs, accusing him of setting up the elimination of Mac Dre and even setting up his own son.

When viewed through the lens of a federal informant, this behavior takes on a darker purpose. An informant’s primary function, after providing intelligence, is often to create doubt, deflect suspicion, and sow discord. Wack 100’s constant, unverified attacks on everyone from Big U to storied legends effectively pollutes the media environment, making it impossible for the public to discern real evidence from pure noise, thereby protecting himself. Even the king of modern rap, Gucci Mane, threw public shade, rapping that he doesn’t argue on the internet, adding, “I’m not Wack 100.”

The Verdict of the Streets

Wack 100’s career has been an endless, self-manufactured storm of controversy. Yet, the current allegations are different. They are backed by circumstantial, yet highly compelling, links to federal paperwork: a mysterious case dismissal, a name popping up in a high-profile kidnapping investigation, and an impossible knowledge of the confidential details of an ongoing Rico bust.

The ultimate irony is that Wack 100’s aggressive, chaotic tactics have only served to cement the belief that he is hiding the very thing he claims to hate. In the world of hip-hop, perception is reality. The moment the streets believe you are working with the law, it doesn’t matter if the allegations are fact or rumor—your reputation is permanently done for.

Wack 100 may continue to rage against the doubters on Clubhouse, but the weight of the evidence, the glaring hypocrisy, and the sheer audacity of his self-exposure have already led to a clear verdict in the court of public opinion. The man who hunted snitches is now, for many, the most suspected informant in the history of the culture.