🔥 Papoose’s Rap Feuds TURNED VIOLENT! Street Brawls with Uncle Murda, Fat Joe & Max B Revealed 🥊👊

At the height of the mid-2000s mixtape era, Papoose wasn’t just another hungry MC — he was the next big thing.

Backed by the legendary DJ Kay Slay and armed with unmatched lyrical firepower, he had the streets buzzing and the blogs watching.

But with every claim to be “King of New York,” the pressure built.

And with pressure came enemies.

One of the first and most brutal beefs ignited with none other than fellow Brooklyn native Uncle Murda.

Both were rising stars with street credibility and loyal followings — but only one could wear the crown.

And neither was willing to back down.

What started as a war of words quickly exploded into something far more raw.

According to street lore and infamous DVD footage, things got physical.

One day, in broad daylight, Uncle Murda reportedly caught Papoose slipping.

The result? A wild altercation where Murda allegedly slapped him around a pole like a rag doll — an event immortalized on hood DVDs passed through barbershops and bodegas.

The footage became infamous, branding Papoose with a humiliating nickname: “the stripper.

” His tough-guy image took a hit, but the war didn’t end there.

Later, inside a crowded club, Papoose sought revenge.

This time, he caught Uncle Murda off guard and landed a brutal sucker punch.

The get-back was short and sweet — a fleeting moment of redemption in a beef that would never truly be resolved.

No truce, no handshake, no public peace.

Just bruises and a silent agreement to walk different paths.

But Papoose didn’t stop there.

Enter Max B — the wavy Harlem rapper who was catching fire in the streets.

The two didn’t have direct issues at first, but beef by association is just as dangerous in hip-hop.

Max B made a minor comment about Case, an affiliate of Papoose, and that was all it took.

The tension escalated when 50 Cent, always the puppet master, invited both rappers to a radio interview known for baiting conflict.

50 cracked jokes at Fat Joe’s expense while Papoose sat silently in the room, absorbing it all.

To some, his silence was just that — silence.

But to Max B and others in the industry, it was a declaration.

By not standing up or speaking out, Papoose looked like he had chosen a side.

And when sides are chosen, battle lines get drawn.

The Max B beef never reached full combustion, but it was smoldering until Max was sent to prison, effectively removing him from the game and diffusing the threat.

But the most complex and emotionally charged beef of Papoose’s career came wrapped in loyalty and love — involving Fat Joe and Remy Ma.

Before Remy and Papoose became hip-hop’s most unlikely power couple, she was a key part of Fat Joe’s Terror Squad.

Their history ran deep.

But after Remy got locked up, she started airing out grievances, accusing Joe of doing little to elevate her career and dismissing his role in her rise.

She gave credit to Big Pun, called herself “self-made,” and distanced herself from Joe’s legacy.

Now enter Papoose — Remy’s ride-or-die, standing beside her as the feud with Joe turned icy.

Tensions boiled over backstage at a show in North Carolina.

Picture this: Papoose chilling with Cassidy, minding his business.

Suddenly, Fat Joe storms into the green room, heated and looking for answers.

No warnings.

No pleasantries.

Just straight-up confrontation.

Joe demanded to know if Papoose had a problem with him, fueled by that now-infamous 50 Cent interview where Joe was publicly disrespected while Papoose remained silently in the room.

Papoose’s response? He swung.

According to multiple sources, the punch didn’t land the way he’d hoped.

Instead, Fat Joe’s squad jumped in and stomped Papoose out.

Another humiliating L.

Another dent in the armor of the self-proclaimed king.

And while this melee further damaged Papoose’s reputation, it also marked a turning point.

He was now known less for his music and more for his beefs — and not the kind where he walked away victorious.

The narrative shifted from “next up” to “what happened?” Despite his talent, despite his co-signs, Papoose became a cautionary tale: a lyrical titan lost in the chaos of clout wars, street pride, and unchecked bravado.

Eventually, things cooled off.

The Fat Joe and Remy Ma feud was squashed.

Today, the three coexist peacefully — grown, wiser, and publicly past the drama.

But not every wound healed.

Papoose and Uncle Murda never reconciled.

They just faded apart, choosing silence over settlement.

The beefs didn’t end.

They just stopped mattering.

Papoose never reached the commercial success many predicted.

He had the bars.

He had the connections.

He had the spotlight.

But he also had distractions — too many battles, not enough focus.

In a game where public image is currency, Papoose spent too much of his capital on street credibility instead of career longevity.

And yet, for all the bruises, sucker punches, and DVD infamy, his name still rings bells — not because of platinum plaques or Billboard hits, but because of the wild, unfiltered chaos that once surrounded him.

The rap game of the 2000s was ruthless, and Papoose was in the eye of the storm.

He may not have worn the crown, but he damn sure left his mark in blood, sweat, and beef.

In the end, his story isn’t just about lost potential — it’s about a forgotten era.

A time when mixtapes ruled, YouTube beefs were gospel, and one wrong look could spark a war.

A time when Papoose wasn’t just a rapper.

He was a headline.

A problem.

A name you had to mention.

And for a while, that was enough to make him king — even if the kingdom crumbled beneath him.