RIP to the Mookster. Real renaissance man that could rap, paint, and sing. Also he might say something crazy philosophical in passing. He was still supporting my shit even when it wasn’t yanking anymore. Here he is with his pistol and jewelry backstage at NWNO 2018.
RIP Reaper Mook, a Long Beach legend, a master of the slow flow who balanced tailored suit elegance with Mafioso menace and the antique soul of the broken-hearted and betrayed. Somewhere between Roc Marciano and Brenton Wood.
Raise a glass to the Reaper when you make a toast.
Mook and his revolver some time in 2017. I told him he was an “ethereal cowboy” because of it and his music at the time. The homie Nate up in there with us. Good times.