Normally the Houston rap column would start off with an anecdote about my life, or something that happened to me that inspired me to write something poignant and funny and stuff, but this time that would be misleading.
This past Sunday afternoon word got out that M.U.G., a bowling ball of hardened street rhymes and heat-seeking rap purpose, was gone. Dead. There's been speculation about exactly how he died, but from the moment the Instagram posts and tweets began rolling out, I knew something was different.
If you knew him, M.U.G. was quiet and rarely raised his voice unless embattled in a discussion about music or knee-deep into a verse onstage. He seemed like the second coming of J Dawg, the two of them perfectly matched in Boss Hogg Outlaw harmony. His last tape, 2012's astute and relatively smart Money and Pain, was lauded and placed in its proper context as one of that year's best projects.