If you were a 13-year-old local gangsta rap prodigy suddenly blowing up all over the place, you'd need all the trappings of instant success just to maintain credibility that you weren't fronting, that you were in the game to stay. For starters, you'd need a crew of people like so much human insulation, from round-the-clock bodyguards who pound outsiders into tapioca for getting too close, to a posse of hangers-on you've known since the second grade to keep you real and leech off your good fortune. Then, you'd need Pilates instructors, bling coordinators, hoodie laundresses, a clipping service to remind you who disrespected you in the press last week, and you'd need a 24/7 procurement department to make sure there was always a Costco-sized supply of Dom Perignon and crunk juice to entertain... More >>>