According to Combat Jack, Diddy gave rapper Positive K the fives over some unpaid monies:
“Spring 1995, New York City. Bad Boy Entertainment is hip hop’s number 1 label on the East Coast and the G.O.A.T. Biggie Smalls was still alive. Jessica Rosenbaum (the Jewish American Princess bitch who promotes hip hop functions) threw a weekly dinner dance event at a club called Esso’s where all the “beautiful” hip hop industry folks could gather, talk mad shit and waste ungodly amounts of money on liquor, party and bullshit.
In addition to his growing record empire, Puffy was making his name as a producer and one of the many artists he produced a song for at the time (I don’t think I ever heard it) was Brooklyn rapper Positive K. K seemed like a cool dude, ran with Audio Two and MC Lyte and even scored a nationwide hit with a single called “I Gotta Man.” Anyways, I’m sitting at a table with my folks and Puffy and his weed carrying entourage make a grand entrance. Shortly thereafter, Positive K walks in dolo. Puffy sees K and approaches him. Apparently, Positive K (or, more specifically, his record label) hadn’t gotten around to paying Puff his producer fee (which was something like 5 thousand dollars) and Puff was heated.
In addition, I heard that both Puff and K were in Los Angeles a week earlier and when Puff stepped to K about his dough, K was like “You? Ni–a please, I’ll get atcha when I get at ya, B-tch!” So, at Club Esso’s, when Puff steps to K again, he asks “Yo ni–a, you got my money?” K looks at Puff like “whatever ni–a” and starts to walk away when Puff whips out his cell phone (phones at the time were about the size of a brick) and starts whupping on K’s head like there’s no effin tomorrow! The place goes crazy, chicks are sceaming, folks are scrambling around and Positive K is catching a royal cell phone ass beating by none other than Sean “Puffy” Combs.
So, after Puff feels like K had enough and asks him “whose my b-tch, K, WHOSE MY BITCH?!!!” K wimpers out “uncle” through some broken and bloody teeth. Puff then steps away from K’s crumpled up body and Puff’s bodyguards (he only had like two at the time), each scoop K up by his armpits and tosses his broken ass out the club and onto the sidewalk. The party resumes, we all get pissy drunk and that’s the last effin time I hear anything about Positive K (if anyone knows what he’s up to these days, please let me know).”
