During the New York stop of the Where The Party At Tour, Eve paused her high-energy set to honor a fallen brother.
On a lineup filled with early 2000s icons like Nelly, Ja Rule, Fabolous, and Jermaine Dupri, her tribute to DMX offered a rare, emotional moment amid the celebration.
The Ruff Ryders First Lady slowed the pace, dimmed the lights, and addressed the crowd with raw gratitude. “I wouldn’t be standing here if it wasn’t for DMX,” she said. “He believed in me before the world did.”
Her voice cracked as she performed a medley of his songs. The crowd erupted, but Eve stood motionless, caught in reflection.
The tribute was more than nostalgia. It was a reckoning with legacy. DMX—born Earl Simmons—wasn’t just a multiplatinum artist. He was a cultural force whose vulnerability, rage, and spiritual conviction shaped an entire era of hip-hop.
Eve’s connection to him runs deep. Born in Philadelphia, she joined Ruff Ryders in the late 1990s as its only female MC.
DMX championed her when few others would. He brought her on tour, backed her debut, and cleared space in a male-dominated genre. His support gave her career weight and direction.
DMX’s 1998 debut It’s Dark and Hell Is Hot shattered expectations and went quadruple platinum. Each album that followed—equally intense and confessional—cemented his place in hip-hop history. His music wasn’t about hits alone. It was about truth. People didn’t just hear DMX. They felt him.
In an age driven by AI and digital virality, Eve’s moment reminded audiences what authenticity sounds like. Her words weren’t rehearsed. Her tears weren’t for show. It was reverence, not performance.
More than two years after DMX’s death, Eve brought his spirit back to center stage. And the culture responded.
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