In the pantheon of hip-hop, Earl Simmons, the man the world knew as DMX, was a raw nerve. His music was a visceral, unfiltered torrent of pain, faith, and aggression—a reflection of the turbulent life he lived. But beneath the gravelly voice and the pitbull growl was a man of profound conviction, an artist who saw the glittering world of the music industry not as a paradise, but as a snake pit. For years, DMX issued chilling warnings about the very power players who defined the era, specifically targeting the two towering figures of hip-hop royalty: Sean “Diddy” Combs and Shawn “Jay-Z” Carter. At the time, his words were often dismissed as the paranoid ramblings of a troubled soul. Today, in the wake of Diddy’s catastrophic fall from grace and the renewed scrutiny on the industry’s dark dealings, DMX’s words sound less like rants and more like prophecy.

DMX never minced words about his place in the music business. “I’m not an industry artist,” he would often declare, “I’m an artist in the industry.” It was a crucial distinction. He saw himself as a foreign entity navigating a corrupt landscape, a world he detailed in his song, “The Industry.” He had witnessed the transactional nature of fame, the compromises required, and the souls sold for a platinum plaque, and he wanted no part of it. This disillusionment was not abstract; it was rooted in personal experience with the men who held the keys to the kingdom.

His critiques of Diddy were particularly scathing and, in retrospect, horrifyingly prescient. DMX recounted how Diddy, the charismatic head of Bad Boy Records, had a reputation for manipulating and controlling his artists. He witnessed firsthand how Diddy pressured Craig Mack, one of Bad Boy’s foundational artists, to change his management. When Mack refused, his career was effectively torpedoed. DMX also revealed that Diddy had initially passed on signing him, only to come calling with a contract after learning that rival label Def Jam had made an offer. DMX refused, stating he knew too much about the internal rot at Bad Boy. But his most damning accusation was also his most controversial. He spoke of how Diddy would metaphorically “rape” his artists, a shocking choice of words that he described as bending them over and taking everything from them. At the time, many interpreted this as a metaphor for financial exploitation. In light of the recent sex trafficking allegations against Diddy, the line between metaphor and reality has become terrifyingly blurred.

DMX’s conflict with Jay-Z was less about physical exploitation and more about what he perceived as cold, calculated career sabotage. The two New York rappers were natural competitors, titans who emerged in the same era. But where DMX was raw emotion, Jay-Z was strategic, a “shady character,” in DMX’s words, who would allegedly undermine anyone he saw as a threat. The rivalry escalated to a new level in 2004 when Jay-Z, after a brief retirement from rapping, was appointed president of Def Jam Records—DMX’s label.

To DMX, this was not a promotion; it was a hostile takeover of his career. He became convinced that Jay-Z took the executive position for one primary reason: to systematically destroy DMX’s sixth album, “Year of the Dog… Again.” DMX felt that Jay-Z, who was planning his own comeback, was clearing the field of his most potent competition. From a lack of promotion to creative interference, DMX saw Jay-Z’s fingerprints all over the album’s commercial underperformance. While Jay-Z has publicly acknowledged their rivalry, often framing it as healthy competition, DMX saw it as a deeply personal and malicious campaign to erase him from the top of the charts.

DMX’s warnings were not just about two men; they were an indictment of a whole system. He lamented the pressure on new artists to compromise their integrity, to “suck up” to executives and “pay DJs” to get their records played. His philosophy was simple and pure: “I give you the music, you give my money.” He believed in artistic freedom and fair compensation, concepts that he felt were alien to the industry’s power brokers.

One of those brokers was Lyor Cohen, the former president of Def Jam and a man Jay-Z considered a mentor. According to Roc-A-Fella co-founder Dame Dash, Jay-Z’s transformation from artist to ruthless businessman accelerated under Cohen’s influence. Cohen embodied the cold, “it’s just business” mantra of the industry. His detachment was so extreme that he once callously discussed DMX’s well-documented struggles with substance abuse with a chilling lack of empathy. Most shockingly, following DMX’s death in 2021, Cohen sent a recorded message to be played at the funeral. Instead of a heartfelt tribute, he called his former artist a “gremlin” and “reckless,” stating that his passing was “no surprise.” It was a final, disrespectful act that, for many, confirmed DMX’s view of the industry’s soulless nature.

For years, the system that DMX fought against successfully branded him as unstable. His battles with addiction and his legal troubles were well-publicized, making it easy for his warnings to be dismissed. But he never stopped speaking his truth. Now, with the federal indictment of Diddy and a growing list of accusers, the industry is facing a long-overdue reckoning. The “filth” that DMX spoke of is being exposed, and the true nature of some of its biggest stars is being laid bare. His words, once seen as the cries of a troubled man, are now being re-examined as the courageous testimony of a prophet who saw the darkness long before the rest of the world was willing to open its eyes. DMX may be gone, but his echoes are finally being heard.