Memo600 has revealed that King Von once called him in tears over the shooting case that hung over him during his rise, a moment the Chicago rapper still seems reluctant to revisit.
The disclosure came as Memo looked back on his years signed to Lil Durk’s Only The Family (OTF) imprint and admitted he did not take his own career seriously for much of that run.
Memo said he was with Durk’s label from the age of 16 until he was around 22, roughly six years. That stretch overlapped with Durk’s climb into one of the bigger names in rap.
When asked how much music he released in that period, Memo conceded it was a lot but not enough.
He did not blame the label for the gaps. “I just wasn’t a rapper,” he said. “I wasn’t taking it serious.”
Memo explained that his doubts lingered even after the numbers started coming in. “I ain’t really believe in myself,” he said, noting that the belief only came later. “I had millions of views. I had hit songs and still wasn’t taking it serious cuz that wasn’t what I wanted to do.
By his account, rap began as an experiment. “I was just trying something,” he said. Pressed on what he was actually chasing, he was blunt. “Fame. I was in it for the fame,” he said.
He added that his first real tape or album only arrived within the last couple of years, which he framed as a sign of how long it took him to commit.
The conversation then turned to King Von, whom Memo described as one of his closest friends. Memo pushed back on the common assumption that Von was signed to Durk.
He said Von was signed under 100K Management, and he gave a nod to Track, an industry figure he called his dog.
As for the bond between Durk and Von, Memo kept it simple. “Just brothers knowing each other growing up and around the same neighborhoods,” he said.
Durk and Von recorded together during Von’s ascent, but the shooting case meant the two had to remain physically separated.
In that period, Von became one of the most talked about drill artists in the world, pairing his music with a storyline that leaned into his dark reputation. Memo spoke about his late friend warmly. “I love my dog for that man,” he said. “Different breed, bro.”
The mood shifted when Memo was asked about the phone call. He admitted he had hoped the question would not come up. “It was about the case that they had,” he said, confirming that Von was crying over the shooting.
Memo made clear that Von understood the stakes. “He knew. He knew,” he said, suggesting Von was aware the case could send him back to prison.
Memo then recalled Von’s own words on the call, describing a man who felt his breakthrough was slipping away. Von said he was sitting there with “a million dollars waiting on me,” Memo recalled, and insisted “it weren’t even my fault.”
The recollection stops there, before Memo offered any further detail about what Von said happened or how the call ended.
What remains is a rare and vulnerable picture of King Von at the height of his momentum, weighed down by a case he feared could take everything from him, and shared by a friend who clearly still carries the memory.
