Beloved singer found dead this morning in his Atlanta home

RANGER Rich Homie Quan died Thursday at his home in Atlanta.

He was 34 years old.

You may know this hip-hop artist as Dequantes Devontay Lamar. He had hit songs like “Type of Way” and “Living a Life.”…Rich Homie Quan’s family and a local morgue both told TMZ on Thursday afternoon that the news was true.

His family told the news source that they are “shattered” and “heartbroken” by his sudden death….

The Atlanta Journal-Constitution reports that the Fulton County Medical Examiner has set a date for tomorrow for an autopsy. The cause of Quan’s death is still unknown.

Boosie Badazz, a famous Atlanta rapper, shared the news of the rapper’s death on X, which used to be Twitter, on Thursday.

The rapper from Wipe Me Down remembered saying, “JUST TALK TO WUAN THE OTHER DAY.”

The podcast No Jumper shared Boosie’s tweet again, and fans left lots of heartfelt comments for the rapper.

“Man hell nah this can’t be true,” said one fan on Twitter.

“I feel so sad about this. “Can’t be real,” said someone else, shocked.

R&B singer Jacquees, who worked with Rich Homie Quan a lot, sent his condolences on Twitter, writing, “Rest in Peace my brother Rich Homie Quan.” I will always love you. “Rich Gang.””

A friend of rapper Richard Stark wrote on Instagram Story, “I’m devastated,” after hearing about Quan’s death.

The rise of Rich Homie Quan

In 2011, Rich Homie Quan started his career. But it wasn’t until 2013 that his single “Type of Way,” which peaked at number 50 on the Billboard Hot 100, became a big hit with the public.

At number 26 on the charts, his 2015 single Flex did even better.

Along with fellow Atlanta rapper Young Thug, Quan was part of Cash Money Records’ spin-off project Rich Gang. Their 2014 single “Lifestyle” was an early hit.

They also worked together on the club hit “Tell Em” that same year and on “Up, Up & Away” the following year.

Rich Homie Quan was brought up in Young Thug’s ongoing criminal trial on Tuesday.

The rapper Gang Up is going to jail soon because he broke Georgia’s RICO law and committed several violent crimes.

Hip-hop artist YSL Woody tried to ask Young Thug if he had a problem with Quan while he was testifying.

It was said that Young Thug laughed back.

RICH GANG’S LEAVE

Recently, Quan talked about the breakup of the Rich Gang group and his relationship with Young Thug on a number of podcasts, such as No Jumper and VladTV.

He did say that Young Thug’s involvement in street activity was more common than what he liked, but he stayed mum about the claims against his former groupmate.

“S**t was getting a little too street from me,” he told No Jumper host Adam Grandmaison, better known as Adam22.

“I wasn’t raised in a certain way—that stuff doesn’t even fit with my morals as a man,” Quan said.

Quan has four sons. Devin, his oldest, was born in 2006 and is the oldest.

The rapper didn’t find out about Devin until five years after the birth of his son.

On September 3, the Rich Homie Quan shared his last social media post.

The Instagram pictures, with the words “Vision clear even through the BS,” showed the Flex artist getting ready for a concert and then rocking the stag

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Biker started pumping gas into crying girl’s car and she begged him to stop as her boyfriend would kill her. I was filling up my Harley at the station when I heard her panicked voice. “Please, sir, please don’t. He’ll think I asked you for help. He’ll get so angry.” She was maybe nineteen or twenty. Blonde hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. Mascara running down her face. Standing next to a beat-up Honda with an empty gas tank, counting coins in her shaking hands. She had maybe three dollars in quarters and dimes. I’d already put my credit card in her pump before I walked over. “It’s already going, sweetheart. Can’t stop it now.” “You don’t understand.” Her voice dropped to a terrified whisper. “My boyfriend, he doesn’t like when people help me. He says it makes him look weak. He’s inside getting cigarettes and if he sees you—” “How much does he usually let you put in?” I asked, watching the numbers climb on the pump. Her face crumpled. “Whatever these coins buy. Usually about half a gallon. Enough to get home.” I’m sixty-six years old. Been riding for forty-three years. Seen a lot of things. But something about this girl’s fear made my blood run cold. “Where’s home?” “Forty miles from here.” She was crying harder now. “Please, you have to stop. He’s going to come out any second and he’s going to think I was flirting with you or asking for money or—” The gas pump clicked off. I’d filled her tank completely. Forty-two dollars’ worth. She stared at the numbers in horror. “Oh my God. Oh my God, what did you do? He’s going to kill me. He’s literally going to kill me.” “Why would your boyfriend kill you for someone else putting gas in your car?” But I already knew the answer. I could see it in her eyes. In the way she kept glancing at the store entrance. In the bruises on her arms that she was trying to hide with her sleeves. “You don’t know him. You don’t know what he’s like when he’s mad.” She grabbed my arm. “Please, can you just leave? Right now? Before he sees you?” “I’m not leaving you here, sweetheart.” She started backing away from me. “You’re making it worse. You’re making everything worse. He’s going to think I set this up. He’s going to think I wanted you to rescue me.” “Did you want me to rescue you?” She opened her mouth to answer, but then her whole body went rigid. “He’s coming. Oh God, he’s coming. Please just go.” I turned and saw him walking out of the gas station. Early twenties. Muscle shirt. Tattoos that looked like he’d gotten them in someone’s garage. The kind of guy who gets bigger when there’s an audience. He took one look at me standing by his girlfriend, saw the full tank of gas, and his expression turned dark. “The hell is this?” He walked up fast, got right in her face. “I leave you alone for five minutes and you’re out here begging strangers for money?” “I didn’t ask him for anything, Tyler. I swear. He just—” Tyler grabbed her arm. Hard. She winced. “He just what? Just happened to fill up our tank? Nobody does that unless someone’s asking.” I stepped forward. “Son, I filled her tank because I saw a young lady in need. She didn’t ask me for anything. This is on me, not her.” Tyler looked at me for the first time. Really looked at me. I’m 6’3″, 240 pounds, leather vest with forty years of patches, and a gray beard down to my chest. I look exactly like what I am—an old biker who’s seen some things and isn’t afraid of punk kids. “Yeah? Well, maybe you should mind your own business, old man. This is my girlfriend and my car. I don’t need your charity.” He yanked the girl toward the car. “Get in. Now.” She scrambled to obey, but I stepped between them and the car door. “I don’t think she wants to go with you, son.” Tyler laughed. An ugly laugh. “Are you kidding me right now? Brandi, tell this old dude you want to come with me.” “Brandi,” I said quietly, not taking my eyes off Tyler. “Do you feel safe with him? Truth. Right now.” “She feels fine!” Tyler shouted. “Tell him, Brandi. Tell him we’re fine.” But Brandi wasn’t saying anything. She was crying silently, her arms wrapped around herself. That’s when Tyler made his mistake. He pulled out his gun and shot at……. (continue reading in the C0MMENT)

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