Tekashi 6ix9ine Asks Who’s Gonna Stop Him From Saying the N-Word…Will He Keep That Same Energy in Prison?

Illustration for article titled Tekashi 6ix9ine Asks Who’s Gonna Stop Him From Saying the N-Word…Will He Keep That Same Energy in Prison?
Photo: Bob Levey (Getty Images)

Possessed Rainbow Brite doll Tekashi 6ix9ine is facing down a potential life sentence for armed robbery, racketeering, and drug trafficking.


Tekashi might have finally gotten himself into some shit he can’t wiggle his way out of with good lawyers or the inexplicable cosigns he’s gotten from other rappers despite pleading guilty to use of a child in a sexual performance and violating the terms of the plea deal.

In addition to the laundry list of charges he’s racked up, he’s had some issues with his booking agents, whom he recently fired. They’ve threatened to sue him over defamatory comments he’s made in the time since.


Aight, so boom. Tekashi recently went back to the Breakfast Club because they love fanning the flames of a trash fire. Because all his legal issues weren’t enough drama, he complained about hosts ignoring his music… then defended his habit of saying “nigga.” Yeah, that’s one way to get people to focus on your music, chief.

“Who gon stop me? Who? Why can’t I say it?” Tekashi asked, before going on to explain that it was part of his culture as someone who grew up in Bushwick, Brooklyn. It’s not the first time I’ve heard someone use that argument in favor of allowing a non-black person to use black slang… and it’s not the first time the argument has been bullshit.

I wonder if he’ll keep up his usual energy in prison, since he got denied bail even after offering $1.7 million and saying he’d relinquish his passport. Ouch.

This motherfucker should have been out of the paint, so I’m hoping the shitstorm growing around him will quiet him down a little bit. I guess he finally proved he’s about that life… sentence.


No, but seriously, fuck this dude.

Natalie Degraffinried is a senior editor for Kotaku.

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Famous last words from a rainbow colored blip on our radar.

I once knew a guy who was Colombian and Italian, who claimed he was from the Bronx, but that accent did not check out, and of course I put on my NSA hat, and found the receipts saying he grew up in Mamaroneck—a tony enclave in Long Island.

Anyhow, this guy came to a party I hosted for probably no reason other than it was a Saturday. Midway through, he dropped the n-bomb—at which point I hit pause on 702's classic “Where My Girls At?” (a sin to pause such a bop, I KNOW).

When the crickets chirped, I explained that no matter how many black friends he had in Mamaroneck (zero) the Bronx (maybe 2.5) and Bushwick (1.5) that word is not for his use. Cue the slowest sip of PBR from him (trash!) and the swiftest exit I have ever seen in my life. I hit that play button, and no one missed a beat to the rest of the song.