That is, until the final verse, from the man whose name is on the song. The big mistake here was the conceit that Cool Breeze was on the same level as the Dungeon Family. With a plodding pace, basic AABB rhyme scheme, and bland imagery, he manages to say the least with the most airtime. It’s almost as if he knows it, choosing to repeat the last four bars four times to close out the track. The song that was supposed to propel him to stardom using his friends’ rocket power instead served as the vehicle for his downfall. If you’ve never heard of Cool Breeze until now, this song is the reason. Perhaps it’s even why posse cuts are so rare these days—no one wants to take their leap so publicly. Just ask Craig Mack—he’s still wondering what happened to his career after Biggie showed him up on the B-side of his own hit single.

Other examples in this vein: Craig Mack — “Flava in Ya Ear (Remix),” Kanye West — “Mercy”

The Beef: “4, 3, 2, 1” remix — LL Cool J ft. Redman, Method Man, Canibus, DMX, Master P (1998)

While the posse cut originated as a platform for showcasing the talents of a single group, crew, or label, the “posse” took on a more loose association in the ’90s, with many forming for the sole purpose of creating all-star promotional vehicles. This often took the form of a remix, extending a hit’s life on the airwaves—but more importantly, creating some of the more memorable lineups in hip-hop history. But when rappers that aren’t that close get on the same track, that competitive fire that inspired so many classic verses can ignite tension between those with fragile egos.

One of the more famous cases is LL Cool J’s “4, 3, 2, 1,” the Beasties-sampling, Erick Sermon-produced hit from LL’s album Phenomenon. LL got some of the hottest rappers of the day on the track, from Meth and Red (veterans making a name for themselves as a dynamic blunt-smoking duo) to Canibus (a hungry young rapper from Jamaica, who idolized LL). When they met, Canibus told LL as much. He even referenced his desire to get a mic tattoo like LL’s in the original version of his verse, saying, “L, is that a mic on your arm?/Lemme borrow that,” as an intended homage to his hero. LL did not appreciate it, asking Canibus to change his verse. He did, but when LL recorded his own verse, he took shots at the rookie: “The symbol on my arm is off limits to challengers/You hold the rusty sword, I swing the Excalibur,” and “Now let’s get back to this mic on my arm/If it ever left my side, it’d transform into a time bomb/You don’t wanna borrow that, you wanna idolize/And you don’t wanna make me mad, nigga, you wanna socialize.”

Between LL and Canibus, it’s hard to say whose verse is better; LL’s is the most polished, but he also had time and opportunity to study Canibus’ verse and take potshots at him. Once the original version of Canibus’ verse surfaced and people knew who LL was talking about, the beef was on. Embarrassed publicly by his idol, Canibus snapped back, writing “2nd Round K.O.” one of the most scathing diss tracks in the history of the form. Over a sinister Wyclef beat with support from none other than Mike Tyson, he proceeds to surgically cut LL to pieces, specifically his tactic of dissing him on the same track after Canibus’ verse was already turned in: “You studied my rhymes/Then you laced your vocals after mine/That’s a bitch move.” LL saved some face later that year with “Ripper Strikes Back”—a reference to “Jack The Ripper,” his Kool Moe Dee diss from 1987—and would later thank Canibus for the inspiration on his self-aggrandizing album G.O.A.T.