Lil Jon’s Son, DJ Young Slade, Found Dead at 27 in Georgia Park

Rapper Lil Jon, left, poses with his son, Nathan Smith, following Smith's graduation from New York University in a photo posted to the late producer's social media. Smith, 27, known professionally as DJ Young Slade, was found dead Friday in Milton, Georgia, after being reported missing earlier in the week. (Courtesy of Nathan Smith/Instagram)

After a frantic, agonizing three-day search that held the city’s music community in a suspended state of collective prayer, the worst fears were realized Friday afternoon. Nathan Smith, the 27-year-old producer and DJ known to the world as DJ Young Slade — and to Lil Jon simply as his only child — was found dead in Milton, Georgia.

The discovery came around noon, when divers from the Cherokee County Fire Department recovered Smith’s body from a pond in Mayfield Park, a quiet green space just hundreds of feet from the home where he was last seen running barefoot and disoriented on Tuesday morning.

For a generation raised on the high-octane, tear-the-club-up energy of Lil Jon, the statement issued by the hip-hop legend on Friday was jarring in its devastating quiet.

“I am extremely heartbroken for the tragic loss of our son, Nathan Smith,” Lil Jon said, confirming the news that had begun to ripple through industry text threads earlier in the day. “His mother, Nicole Smith, and I are devastated. Nathan was the kindest human being you would ever meet. He was immensely caring, thoughtful, polite, passionate, and warmhearted.”

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For those who track the lineage of Southern hip-hop, Nathan Smith was the heir apparent to a dynasty. He wasn't a "nepo baby" coasting on a famous surname; he was a skilled technician — an NYU graduate who mastered the boards and possessed an ear that his father frequently credited as the secret weapon in his later career. They were a fixture together, often spinning back-to-back sets at major festivals where the chemistry was undeniable.

The circumstances surrounding his death remain a blur. Police say Smith walked away from his home early Tuesday without his phone or wallet, prompting a massive search involving K-9 units and drones. While the investigation is technically active, authorities were quick to note Friday that there is "no indication of foul play," leaving a grieving family to grapple with a tragedy that feels as senseless as it is final.

“We loved Nathan with all of our hearts and are incredibly proud of him,” the family’s statement concluded, asking for privacy in a moment where the entire culture feels the loss.

Watch: 50 Cent Turns Doordash Super Bowl Ad Into Savage Takedown of Rival Diddy

If pettiness was a currency, Curtis Jackson would be the Federal Reserve.

While most brands are spending $8 million for 30 seconds of airtime to make you cry about Clydesdales or nostalgic car rides, DoorDash just let 50 Cent do what he does best: monetize his enemies. In a new campaign released Thursday ahead of Super Bowl LX, the rapper-turned-mogul officially graduated from "Internet Troll" to "Corporate Troll," and the result is a masterclass in disrespect.

The spot, titled "The Big Beef," is technically about getting food delivered. But let's be real — this is a diss track with a corporate budget. And yes, he absolutely went there with the prison sentence.

The Art of the "Big Beef"

The commercial opens with 50 Cent sitting on a leather couch—bottle of his own Branson Cognac visibly placed on the table, because of course it is—addressing the elephant in the room with the smirk of a man who knows he’s untouchable.

"It's come to my attention that everyone's calling me a troll," he says. "Some have said even the 'King of Trolls.' First of all, I'm flattered. But I'm done with all that."

He then claims he would never "literally deliver beef when millions of people are watching," before the screen cuts to a title card that simply reads: "50 Cent Would."

From there, it’s open season. As he unpacks a DoorDash bag, he offers a tutorial on how to handle "beef," noting that it is "more of an art than science." And this is where the references start flying over the heads of casual viewers and landing directly on the chin of Sean "Diddy" Combs.

The Breakdown: How 50 Cent Dissected Diddy

If you blinked, you missed the daggers. Here is how 50 Cent turned a grocery run into a breakdown of his rival:

• The "Puffs" Gag: While explaining that "you don't want to be too obvious," 50 pulls out a bag of Cheese Puffs. He holds them up just long enough for the "Puff" reference to register, stares at the camera, and deadpans the line about subtlety.

• The "Combs" Disrespect: The most blatant moment comes when he reaches back into the bag and pulls out a multipack of hair combs. "Oh, they sell combs," he says, examining the package with mock surprise. "What a coincidence." He then tosses them over his shoulder like trash.

• The "Branson/50 Months" Synergy: This is the killshot. 50 pulls out a bottle of his own Branson Cognac, noting that it pairs perfectly with beef. He then delivers the line that made the timeline freeze: "Aged 4 years... or 50 months, who's counting?"

The Context (For Those Who Missed It)

This is a triple-layered joke. First, he's plugging his liquor (Branson VSOP is aged 4 years). Second, he's referencing the passage of time.

Third, and most ruthlessly, he is mocking Diddy’s specific prison sentence. For those who haven't checked the Bureau of Prisons roster, Diddy was sentenced to exactly 50 months in prison last October. 50 Cent isn't just throwing out a random number; he is using his own product's specs to mock his rival's incarceration.

Why It Works

In an era where Super Bowl commercials try too hard to be "viral," this one succeeds because it feels authentic to who 50 Cent is. He isn't acting; he's just being the same guy who executive produced Sean Combs: The Reckoning.

Most importantly, he’s multitasking. In 40 seconds, he sold you a DoorDash discount, promoted his own cognac, and danced on his enemy's legal grave.

Authentic is one word for it. Ruthless is another. Either way, 50 Cent just proved that while other rappers release diss tracks, he releases business ventures.

Lamonte McLemore, Architect of the 5th Dimension’s Sound, Dies at 90

The 5th Dimension features (clockwise from top left) Ron Townson, Florence LaRue, Marilyn McCoo, LaMonte McLemore and Billy Davis Jr. in a promotional photo. McLemore, who recruited the members to form the "Champagne Soul" quintet that broke racial barriers in pop music, died Tuesday at age 90. (Photo by John Engstead/Courtesy of 2911 Media)

The smooth, anchoring bass of “Champagne Soul” has gone silent.

LaMonte McLemore, the founding member of The 5th Dimension whose vision — both musical and photographic — helped define the aesthetic of the 1960s and 70s, died Tuesday at his home in Las Vegas. He was 90.

According to a statement confirmed by Jeremy Westby of 2911 Media, McLemore passed peacefully from natural causes, surrounded by his family. He had been recovering from a stroke suffered several years ago.

It is impossible to overstate just how critical “Mac” was to the architecture of pop culture. He wasn't just he figure with the warm baritone on “Up, Up and Away.” He was the connector, the scout and the glue. McLemore was the one who assembled the Avengers of vocal harmony. A former minor league baseball pitcher with a golden ear, he first recruited Marilyn McCoo — whom he met during a photo shoot — for a group called the Hi-Fi’s. When that dissolved, he called up his old St. Louis friends Billy Davis Jr. and Ron Townson, and then brought in a schoolteacher named Florence LaRue.

LaMonte McLemore, the founder and bass vocalist of The 5th Dimension, poses for a portrait. McLemore, known as the "glue" of the six-time Grammy-winning group and a groundbreaking photographer, died Tuesday at his home in Las Vegas. He was 90. (Photo by Benny Clay/Courtesy of 2911 Media)

The result was The 5th Dimension, a group that smashed the color barrier of pop radio. In an era when Black artists were often boxed into specific R&B lanes, McLemore’s group wore colorful bell-bottoms and sang Jimmy Webb and Laura Nyro songs with a sophistication that forced the world to listen. They were “Black joy” before the term existed, winning six Grammys and topping the charts with anthems like “Aquarius/Let the Sunshine In” and “Stoned Soul Picnic.”

McLemore’s legacy extended far beyond the grooves of a vinyl record. For over 40 years, he was the lens behind the legendary “Beauty of the Week” feature in Jet magazine. He didn't just take pictures; he celebrated the Black woman in a way that mainstream fashion magazines of the era refused to do. He shot the cover of Stevie Wonder’s first album, became the first African American photographer hired by Harper’s Bazaar and saw the culture when the rest of the media looked away.

LaMonte McLemore looks through his camera lens in this undated photo. Beyond his musical legacy, McLemore was a celebrated visual artist who spent four decades shooting the iconic "Beauty of the Week" feature for Jet magazine and became the first African American photographer hired by Harper’s Bazaar. (Courtesy of 2911 Media)

In a joint statement, his longtime friends and bandmates Marilyn McCoo and Billy Davis Jr. said, “All of us who knew and loved him will definitely miss his energy and wonderful sense of humor.” Florence LaRue added that his “cheerfulness and laughter often brought strength and refreshment to me in difficult times,” noting that they were “more like brother and sister than singing partners.”

McLemore is survived by his wife of 30 years, Mieko, his daughter Ciara, his son Darin and his sister Joan.