Before Rap, DMX Was Known for Robbing People in New York With His Dog
- Good CRITICISM
- 4 days ago
- 3 min read

Before the platinum albums, the gravelly voice, and the unforgettable anthems that would define an era of hip-hop, DMX—born Earl Simmons—was known on the streets of New York for something far darker. Long before the world knew him as a rap icon, DMX had built a reputation as a feared street figure, infamous for robbing people with the help of his dog.
This chapter of his life, raw and uncomfortable, is essential to understanding both the man and the music that would later make him a legend.
Growing Up in Survival Mode
DMX’s childhood was marked by extreme hardship. Raised in Yonkers, New York, he endured abuse, instability, and time in group homes and juvenile facilities. Survival came early, and innocence disappeared fast. By his teenage years, the streets had become both his refuge and his battlefield.
With few legitimate options and constant exposure to violence, DMX gravitated toward crime—not out of thrill, but necessity. Hunger, anger, and trauma shaped his worldview, and the streets rewarded fearlessness more than vulnerability.
The Dog and the Reputation
One of the most notorious elements of DMX’s early street life was his use of a dog during robberies. According to DMX himself, the dog wasn’t just a companion—it was a weapon of intimidation. In New York, word spread quickly about a young man who would rob people while commanding a fierce dog at his side.
The presence of the animal amplified fear. Victims were less likely to resist, and DMX’s name began circulating in street conversations as someone not to be played with. In a city where reputation could mean survival, fear became currency.
This wasn’t mythology created later—it was a reputation DMX openly acknowledged in interviews, never attempting to sanitize his past.
Jail, Reflection, and the Turn Toward Music
Eventually, the streets caught up with him. DMX faced arrests and incarceration, experiences that forced moments of reflection. While locked up, he began writing rhymes more seriously—using words to release pain he had previously expressed through violence.
Rap became an outlet, a confession booth, and a lifeline. His lyrics reflected everything he had lived through: paranoia, guilt, rage, faith, and internal conflict. Unlike many artists, DMX didn’t pretend to be hardened—he was hardened, and the scars were audible in every bar.
From Street Fear to Musical Fearlessness
When DMX finally broke into the rap industry in the late 1990s, his authenticity was undeniable. His music felt dangerous because it was rooted in reality. Songs weren’t exaggerated tales—they were emotional autopsies of a life lived on the edge.
The same intensity that once made him feared in the streets now made him respected in music. His growl, his prayers, his vulnerability, and his aggression all came from the same place: survival.
Owning the Past, Not Glorifying It
DMX never glorified his criminal past. Instead, he spoke about it as something that haunted him. He often warned young people about following the same path, openly acknowledging that what he did was wrong—but also explaining why it happened.
That honesty set him apart. He didn’t rewrite his story to look cleaner. He told it as it was.
Before the fame, before the charts, and before the legacy, DMX was a street survivor in New York—known for robbing people with his dog in a desperate fight to live. That past didn’t disappear when success came; it became the foundation of some of the most emotionally raw music hip-hop has ever heard.
DMX’s story is not one of glorification, but of transformation. It’s proof that even the darkest beginnings can produce something powerful—when pain finds a voice instead of a weapon.





