There is no Snoop Dogg museum in Los Angeles County. A grave omission. If a proposition to build one were put on the ballot, local registered voters would inevitably approve it in a landslide. But until that happens, the next best thing is an anonymous brick compound in Inglewood that serves as Snoop Dogg’s own Paisley Park.
The color scheme veers closer to marine blue than purple, but the effect is similar to Prince’s fabled Minneapolis Xanadu. Snoop’s headquarters sport a trio of recording studios, a television production facility, a rubber basketball court with 8-foot rims, a casino game room with pool and blackjack tables and enough arcade diversions to fill up a Dave & Buster’s. A framed Snoop Lakers jersey, Blaxploitation film posters, countless platinum records, and murals of Kobe and Shaq, Michael Jackson, George Clinton, and “Star Wars” adorn the walls.
If you Rip Van Winkled the last quarter century and woke up inside this fortress, you could swiftly recognize the 180-degree reversal of Snoop Dogg’s reputation. It was 25 years ago this August that Snoop was arrested for first-degree murder and the press immediately branded him public enemy No. 1. Two months later, he dropped his instant classic, “Doggystyle,” which sold over 800,000 copies in its first week, setting records for the fast selling rap album of all-time and the most by a debuting artist.
That was then and this was now. Marijuana is now legal in California and Snoop went from America’s Most Wanted to American Idol (literally) to Hollywood Walk of Famer, when he receives the 2,651st star outside the El Capitan theater on Nov. 19. Walking into the compound, you glimpse a framed and signed photo of Snoop meeting the Obamas in the Oval Office. In another glass case, a poster advertises his Emmy-nominated VH1 show with white lace-lifestyle mogul, Martha Stewart. Jay Gatz wished he could’ve reinvented himself as artfully as Calvin Broadus — a reality that “the Simpsons”acknowledged when they conscripted him to voice himself on the episode, “The Great Phatsby.”
At 47-years-old, Mr. Murder Was the Case now reigns over a flourishing branded empire of cannabis-related businesses, commands the unconditional love of both you and your grandmother, still has a song in regular terrestrial radio rotation (“Smile Bitch”), and is about to receive that ultimate flex of “You Made It” celebrity, a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. Oh, and he’s still controversial enough to be on the receiving end of attacks from the President.
“You gotta’ put that work in,” Snoop explains, puffing on a blunt in the Mothership, the largest studio in the complex — full of black lights, burning candles, and flat-screen TVS. Atop the recording console, a 16-camera security panopticon monitors everyone coming and going. A bong is tucked inconspicuously underneath an end table covered with roses.
“It’s not like they just gave this to me,” Snoop continues. “The [press] was out to get me. I had to prove them wrong and do all the right things to get myself in favor. When you mess up, you look for redemption and when you do something wrong, you try to get it right. That’s where I am right now.”
To Read The Rest Of This Article By Jeff Weiss on Variety
Published: November 19, 2018
Founder & Interim Editor of L.A. Cannabis News