For years, the South had been a kingdom shared, but the air was changing. Rick Ross’s "B.M.F." was blaring from every corner, a cinematic anthem that claimed the lineage of Big Meech and Larry Hoover. To some, it was a tribute; to Jeezy, who had lived the life the lyrics described, it felt like a costume being worn by a stranger.

"The streets know the difference between a movie and a documentary," Jeezy muttered, his gravelly voice barely audible over the hum of the engine.

The Snowman had spoken, reminding the world that while anyone can rhyme about the life, only a few have the scars to prove they lived it.