He’s the future of Roc-a-fella Records and the Philadelphia police’s public enemy numero uno. In an exclusive sit-down, Beanie Sigel speaks candidly about having his rap career—and his life—both on the line.

On the exterior, Beanie Sigel shows few signs of stress. Armed with the cutting snaps of a seasoned lunchroom smart-ass, he acts as if he’s keeping it together. Observe: A Roc-A-Fella worker bee struts into Damon Dash’s contemporary Midtown digs to show off the shine on his timepiece’s bezel. (For the record, it’s low-grade). Beans greets his stuntin’ with a fake chuckle—the kind Dr. Evil would deliver if he were Black—then fires: “Those ain’t Rolex diamonds. What the fuck you done to that?”
Such sharp humor from the intimidating Philly scrap—who was released from federal custody on October 8—is encouraging, but he could very well be putting on a show of David Blaine proportions. Despite the lighthearted moment, Sigel’s inner thoughts must be miles away from Comedy Central. Heavy questions need answering. Here’s one: Could forever-young hip-hop fans have any interest in a 50-year-old former rap star named Dwight Grant?

On July 3, Sigel, 29, was charged with attempted murder, stemming from a July 1 incident in which he is accused of firing five or six bullets at Philadelphia native Terrance Speller in front of the Pony Tail Bar, a strip club in West Philly. Speller took a bullet to the chest and heel before hitting the pavement. If a jury in Philadelphia—a city that has acquitted only 14 of 974 gun cases since January, 1999—finds Sigel guilty, he will face a maximum sentence of 20 to 40 years. Those numbers fatten when prosecutors stack on previously pending charges of assault and illegal gun possession.
Signed to Roc-A-Fella by Jay-Z in 1998, Sigel, the leader of the up-and-coming group State Property, has sold over a million records in his career. But with a long history with Philadelphia police, and his future uncertain, Sigel must now worry. Worry that Speller—who was terrified to cooperate with the prosecution because of what he called Sigel’s “long arms,” according to Philadelphia Special Investigative Unit Detective Michael Chitwood—has already given the prosecution videotaped testimony. Worry that this same Mr. Speller might reenact for the jury his panicked thoughts—“I’m not gonna die!,” he told himself again and again—the night the bullet pierced his chest. Worry that Sigel’s rumored addiction to Percocet and cough medicine—called “pancakes and syrup” on Philly streets—could be confirmed by the fact the police allegedly found two 16-ounce

bottles of medicine, 22 Xanax and 21 Percocet pills in his Escalade last April 20.
There’s one story Sigel won’t have to sweat, however. One that, sadly, will probably never make it to the jury: On the day he was arrested after performing at the Camden, NJ, Rock The Mic concert, three young boys, ages eight through 11, stood at the 18th Police District waiting to talk to police about their dirt bikes, which had been stolen. When Sigel walked into the building, the overexcited tykes instantly forgot about their two-wheelers. Spotting the kids waiting patiently, Detective Chitwood asked Sigel if he would mind talking to them. Sigel agreed and proceeded to give the boys a presentation on the importance of school, and the benefits of obeying parents and teachers.
How funny is that?

XXL: Do you believe that you have a temper?

No more temper than anybody else.

You don’t think that you’re quicker to flip than the next individual?

It all depends. What’s the situation?

Okay. You go to a club tonight and a total stranger approaches you and says, “I’m not really feeling you, Sigel!” Could you walk away?

I would be like, “And you’re saying all that to say what?” That would be my reaction: “You saying all that to say what?”

That would be your reaction? Real talk.

What I’ma do? See, I’m under a microscope so hard right now that it’s really hard to answer these questions. You know how I would act. You know. I’ma answer it like that. I would handle it like a perfect gentleman [winks]. I’m not that dude who’s out looking for shit. But when you so used to doing stuff a certain way, it’s hard to change, especially where I come from. That’s what I do. I can’t isolate myself like that. I’m not gonna be stupid and just do dumb shit. But I’m not Martin Luther King. I’m not gonna keep turning the cheek so you could slap me on the other side. Nah, man. I don’t know nobody who can do that. I mean there’s people out there who do, but not me.

Do you think it’s difficult to step away because certain instincts have been instilled in you from growing up in your particular hood?

Jay tells me that all the time. He said it on his record. I think it was The Blueprint: “Beans, I ain’t tryin’ to change you/Just give you some game to make the transition/From the street to the fame.” I fuck with Jay for that. That’s what’s up. But it’s a process.

Are you close to completing the process?