On a typically breezy Southern California night, music exec Marion "Suge" Knight Jr. is out cruising the boulevards of Los Angeles, posse in tow. Sporting a sparkling two-carat diamond earring, brand-new leather Filas, and a UCLA baseball cap, Knight makes his way to a trendy East L.A. nightclub. Upon arrival, the six-foot-four, 315-pound former defensive end has no problem navigating through the thick dance-floor crowd. As he passes, an awed club patron says out loud to no one in particular, "That Suge Knight ain't no motherfucking joke."

In true Berry Gordy style, the name Suge Knight has become synonymous with megabuck deals, superstar careers, and platinum albums. And in true OG style, Knight's name has also become synonymous with some of the most frightening tales of threats, gunplay, and beatdowns the music industry has ever known. As the 29-year-old CEO of Death Row Records, Knight and his partner, producer extraordinaire Dr. Dre, have turned the record biz upside down with their Midas touch on the charts-and Suge's alleged heavy touch on anyone who gets in Death Row's way.

The drama began four years ago when the late Eric "Eazy-E" Wright filed suit, claiming Knight and two others assaulted him with pipes and bats to get Dre released from a contract with Wright's Ruthless Records. Though the suit was later dismissed, Knight's reputation as the wrong nigga to fuck with kept rolling. It has now reached mythic status with the in-your-face success of Death Row, worth an estimated $100 million. Plans for the label's future depend on the outcome of Snoop Doggy Dogg's murder trial, Dre's halfway-house stint, and Suge's own problems.

The Compton native dismisses all the talk that paints him as a black prototype for the next Scorsese gangsta flick. "The rumors are helpful but not true," says the surprisingly mild-mannered Knight. "They get me additional respect, and this business is about getting the respect you deserve so you can get what you want. I don't worry about all the talk."

But Knight's got more than talk to contend with. He was recently sentenced to five years' probation for assault charges brought by two aspiring rappers who say, among other things, that Knight pulled out a gun and beat them over the use of a recording-studio phone. Though federal agents are investigating, the law's not his only problem; word on the street is that there are three contracts out on his life right now.

Rumors and court cases notwithstanding, Knight's current sweet life of stretch limousines, $1,000 hotel suites, and a very expensive car collection is worlds away from the modest two-bedroom house where he grew up with his mom, dad, and two older sisters. His father, a Mississippi-born truck driver, encouraged Suge (so named for his sugary-sweet disposition) to make his name on the football field-not the music charts. But after being named UNLV's rookie of the year, hopes of NFL stardom got him only as far as tryouts with the Los Angeles Rams. "I love the game and still play from time to time," he says. "But it wasn't meant to be. So I moved on."

Unfortunately, "moving on" led to the beginning of a long series of run-ins with the LAPD. But after forming a small music publishing company, Knight hooked up with Vanilla Ice just before Ice's hugely-if briefly-successful debut album. When it came time to be paid, though, Knight almost got the shaft. "But I didn't let that happen," he says with a sly smile. "You can get fucked real quick in this industry if you don't know what's going on." Knight's quickly acquired publishing knowledge led to discussions with the D.O.C. and Andre "Dr. Dre" Young about their contracts at Mary J. Blige and Jodeci, rejects the notion that his rep might scare away potential business and destroy his dream of Death Row becoming the Motown of the '90s. "I'm in this game to win, and that means playing the best way you know how," he says. "There are no hard-and-fast rules in the industry-no rights or wrongs. As long as you're bringing in the money, they will deal with you, no matter what anybody says."

Away from Death Row, Knight can be found keeping his no-fat physique toned at a local gym. Or you may peep him on Crenshaw Avenue engaging in his other favorite pastime: flipping switches in one of his "six-fours." Last year, he and Dre further expanded their entrepreneurial empire when they opened Let Me Ride Hydraulics, a custom lowrider shop that employs 15 young men from the 'hood. Also on the agenda is another celebration for South-Central mothers, whom Knight transports to Beverly Hills for a candlelit, five-course Mother's Day champagne brunch. This year, Death Row shelled out about $75,000 for the event.

Reaching for the next level, Knight is also looking to publish his own music magazine and give Spike a run for his money by producing feature films with Dr. Dre under the Death Row umbrella. Their first venture, a $750,000, 18-minute short film based on Snoop's Murder Was the Case, got props from director Oliver Stone and sparked a multiplatinum soundtrack. "My mission is helping young black talent see their dreams happen," says Knight. "That's my ultimate purpose in this business, so fuck anybody who can't understand or deal with that. I know how I am and what my heart is like," he says slowly. "I leave my judgment to God."