Soundtrack 2 Heartbreak

Cudi Testifies in the Pouring Rain

“Good morning, Mr. Mescudi.”

“Hi.”

Scott Mescudi—better known to the world, the hip-hop community, and anyone who went through a 2009 emo phase as Kid Cudi—had the overflow room laughing the second he took the witness stand in The United States of America vs. Sean Combs.

An hour earlier, I was pre-gaming for his testimony in the back of a yellow cab, blasting the songs that once ruled my early-twenties YouTube playlist. Not “Day ‘n’ Nite.” Not “Pursuit of Happiness.”

It was “The Prayer,” on repeat.

All the while 'til I'm gone make my words important, so
If I slip away, if I die today
The last thing you remember won't
Be about some Apple Bottom jeans with the boots with the fur.”

The song’s depressing vibe—sampling Band of Horses’ “The Funeral,” another staple from that era—felt eerily fitting for what was about to unfold.

The day before Cudi took the stand, I was eating pizza in Little Italy with a few friends when the news broke: Cudi’s testifying. I started playing “The Prayer” on my phone.

“Cudi’s trash,” one male friend said, asking me to “turn that shit off.”

“His music is gayyyyyy,” another said. “He makes songs for depressed white chicks.”

Sure, Cudi wasn’t another rapper, out here rapping about shooting ops on Crenshaw or banging groupies in Ibiza. But that’s what made him different.

He spoke to the weird, weed-smoking, emo kids like me trying to find their way in rust belt cities—wild souls who washed down his lyrics with Jameson and ginger to survive being ghosted by a dude in a Joy Division tee.

Cudi’s music was soft, but buried in his sleepy bars were moments that restored the power I’d just given away to a bearded guy at 2 AM who said I’d be “much hotter with less back fat.”

Lines like “Sometimes I’m thinking God made me special here on purpose,” spoke to my soul in ways 50 Cent’s Candy Shop could never. I didn’t need another guy telling me to lick their lollipop. I wanted to know that deep men existed- ones who could see the soul hidden under the Urban Outfitters layers.

Cudi wasn’t the soundtrack 2 my life—he was a few songs on the soundtrack 2 hipster heartbreak.
He helped heal wounds I didn’t have the language for yet.

Who would’ve guessed that, all these years later, he’d be forced to reopen his own painful wounds from that era? Turns out it wasn’t just Buffalo girls like me crying and puking in dive bar bathroom stalls, going through it.

Even Kid Cudi—Mr. Solo Dolo himself—got pulled into a love triangle so deranged, so emotionally radioactive, not even a decade and a half of therapy could fully unpack it.

While I was spiraling over boys who wore leather jackets in July not paying for my cocktail, he was paying for a cocktail he never ordered- a Molotov one that lit his Porsche on fire.

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Outside the Courthouse

It was raining. It was pouring. The paparazzi were far from snoring- wide awake and anxiously waiting outside the lower Manhattan court house to capture the entrance of the most famous witness yet.

The gloom couldn’t have been more fitting for the arrival of hip-hop’s resident emo Aquarian.

I got there at 8:36 AM. TMZ said Cudi was expected at 9:00. So I waited outside, standing in cheap ballet flats next to a line of drenched cameramen with $10K lenses and waterproof jackets—definitely more prepared for this moment than I was.

Worst case, I’d catch a cold. Best case, I’d catch a viral clip. Either way—nothing a Z-pack couldn’t fix.

The tension was thick outside. This was the money shot.

My purple umbrella started pissing off one of the paparazzi.

“Don’t stand in front of me with the umbrella…This isn’t your show!” he yelled.

I clapped back, “It’s not yours either.”

He thought I was blocking him from the car that had just pulled up to the courthouse. The swarm descended—cameras up, flashes ready—only to mob an elderly man pulling binders out of his trunk for a totally unrelated trial.

This false alarm cycle went on for thirty minutes. Eventually, I went live on Instagram and started a game with my followers called “Cudi or Not Cudi?”

“If Cudi pulls up in a Toyota Camry,” a YouTuber joked next to me, “I’m packing up and taking this whole thing home!”

Finally—a black SUV crept up. Doors opened.

Out stepped Kid Cudi smoking a cigarette, wearing a black motorcycle jacket, white tee, and blue jeans—K-Dot Super Bowl-coded, but slimmer at the ankle. No suit. No entourage. Just some good old-fashioned nicotine to calm his nerves.

He looked like every sad-boy heartbreaker who ever love-bombed women in leather—except his fit was designer, pressed, and free of PBR stains. Cleaned up for court. Page Six ready. The final evolution of every mixtape-making, emotionally stunted guy who wrecked a generation of hopeless romantics who mistook a drunken Nietzsche monologue for intimacy, and a spontaneous Oasis piano cover for love.

But this time, he wasn’t here to haunt us.
He was here to haunt Diddy—at least that’s what prosecutors hoped.

I screamed, “I LOVE YOUR MUSIC!” and, in a moment of chaotic panic, followed it with: “THE APPLE BOTTOM JE-BOOTS WITH THE FUR!”

Right artist. Wrong lyrics. Way too much energy.
I suddenly remembered why I never fit with the broody archetype. Too obnoxious for their grayscale souls.

But I got what I came for: a blurry, shaky video of Cudi stepping into the courthouse. My job was done. I could leave the high-definition shots to the guy with the $10K lens and a personal vendetta against my umbrella.

Later, I saw these photos published everywhere in mainstream media—so crisp and color-corrected I genuinely thought they were AI. Somehow, these photographers made a gloomy, rain-drenched Manhattan morning look like a sunny spring afternoon in Honolulu. The finest touch-up work I’ve seen since Kris Jenner’s latest face lift!

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Cudi Takes the Stand

The overflow room was packed. Somehow, there was one seat left in the front row next to the televisions, and I snagged it. From there, I had a decent view of Cudi, the prosecutors, the defense attorneys, and Combs—who was now leaning back in his chair, a sharp contrast to his posture just moments earlier.

The previous witness, former employee George Kaplan, had just wrapped an hour-long testimony that felt more like a love letter to his former boss. Despite witnessing Diddy angrily throw green apples at a woman one time at his Miami mansion—a situation that ultimately led to his decision leave the company—Kaplan credited Combs for turning him into "the man he is today." Diddy ate Kaplan’s testimony up—leaning forward in his chair, nodding his head along to every compliment.

Cudi finally sat down. That’s when I noticed it—the diamond-set cross earring dangling from his left ear. The final accessory to complete the indie boy uniform.

His gracious hosts, the U.S. prosecution team, greeted him. After all, this was their party—and Cudi wasn’t given the option to RSVP. He was subpoenaed. Forced to be there, whether he wanted to or not.

Just like the witness before him—George Kaplan—whose testimony ended with the defense asking if he even wanted to be there.

“You’d rather not be here?” the attorney asked.
“100%,” Kaplan said.
“You never reached out?”
“Absolutely not,” Kaplan told the jury, claiming the U.S. government “forced him” to testify.

Now that Cudi was on the stand, Combs sat back in his chair, calmly. “Calm.” The same word Cudi used again and again during in his testimony to describe Combs.

Prosecutors asked Cudi to describe his relationship with Cassie Ventura to the jury.

He said they first met in 2008 at an event, but didn’t begin dating until 2011. That year, they grew close—talking every day, spending time together in Hollywood, occasionally smoking weed, sometimes working on music. Cudi said he considered her his girlfriend.

During that time, Cassie would open up to him about her ex, Sean Combs. She told him the relationship had been toxic. Abusive. At times, physically violent.

Cudi testified that he had no idea she was still on-and-off with Diddy while they were seeing each other. As far as he knew, “they had some problems,” and the relationship was over.

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The Sunset Marquis Escape

One day, Ventura called Cudi around 5:30 PM in sheer panic. She told him that Diddy had found out about their relationship and asked Cudi to pick her up.

“I didn’t think she was still dealing with him,” Cudi told the court room.

Cudi said that Cassie sounded especially nervous on the phone, and confessed to him that he had asked for Cudi’s address to which Cassie gave it to him. She was scared because she didn’t know what Diddy was going to do to Cudi.

Cudi picked Ventura up and took her to the Sunset Marquis Hotel and Villas—a place I’d argue is West Hollywood’s best-kept secret.

Tucked just below the Sunset Strip, it’s a lush, hidden enclave known for housing rockstars and musicians from around the world, advertised as “an escape for the creative mind.”

The property feels like a private jungle—winding pathways, thick vegetation, a pool surrounded by palms, sleek villas, and an art gallery, The Morrison Hotel Gallery, filled with black-and-white portraits of legends like Jay-Z, Jimi Hendrix, and Mariah Carey.

On the hotel’s website, there’s a quote from Steven Tyler that screams:

“I just fucking love this place!”

I can confirm. The first time I visited the Sunset Marquis, I met Steven Tyler in the lounge and he asked me if I wanted to give him a shoulder massage. I said no. He said he was kidding.

This particular evening, though, brought no rockstar glamor or poolside peace. Instead, Cudi recalled a trembling phone call from Diddy’s assistant, Capricorn Clark, who claimed she had just been kidnapped—by Diddy—and was now sitting in Cudi’s driveway.

She was on speakerphone “on the verge of tears,” telling Cudi and Ventura that Diddy and another man were inside Cudi’s house while she waited outside. According to Clark, Diddy had forced her into the car on a revenge mission after learning that Cudi had been romantically involved with Cassie.

Cudi decided to head home—8295 Hollywood Hills Blvd—to confront Diddy himself. He already had Diddy's number saved as an industry contact. He called.

"Motherfucker, you in my house?" he asked.

Diddy, according to Cudi, was calm. He said he wanted to talk.

"Motherfucker, you in my house?" Cudi repeated.

"I'm over here waiting for you," Diddy replied.

When Cudi arrived, Diddy, Clark, and the other man were gone. Inside, his security cameras had been moved, and the footage was useless. Christmas gifts he had bought for his family from Chanel were unwrapped on the kitchen counter. His dog was locked in the bathroom.

The prosecution asked how the dog behaved after the incident.

"Very jittery and on edge all the time," Cudi said. The dog, who had been with him for three years, wasn’t the same after the break-in, he claimed.

Cudi told the court he wanted to fight Diddy. But something told him to think twice. He didn’t know if Diddy had a weapon or backup. He called the police and filed a report. Then he went home. Later, he saw Cassie. She was still shook up.

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Cudi Spent Time with Cassie’s Family in Connecticut

Cudi told the jury he still believed he and Cassie were in a monogamous relationship—even after the break-in. She invited him to come with her to Connecticut, to stay with her family. For a few days, he said, she was just a daughter again, far away from the toxicity lingering over her in Los Angeles.

“It was good for her,” Cudi told the jury.

But even there, the darkness followed.

Cudi said Diddy kept texting him—claiming confusion, wanting to talk.

Cudi didn’t give in.

“You broke into my house. You messed with my dog. I don’t want to talk to you,” he told the court.

Kid Cudi’s Porsche Torched by Mystery Molotov Cocktail

During her days-long testimony, Cassie told the jury that her brief 2011 romance with Cudi enraged Diddy so much he wanted to set Cudi’s car on fire.

Cudi confirmed the car fire. He described how, in 2012, his dog sitter called him in a panic: “She told me my car was on fire.”

A Molotov cocktail had been thrown into his Porsche. The roof was sliced open, the interior scorched, red leather seats buried in ash. The car was totaled.

The prosecutor asked Cudi what his reaction was to finding out his car was set on fire?

“What the fuck?” he said.

The overflow room erupted in laughter.

“This is getting out of hand,” Cudi said. “I need to talk to him.”

Cudi’s manager Dennis arranged a meeting with Diddy’s right-hand man, D-ROC, so the two men could talk.

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Soho House Meeting

Cudi told the jury about meeting Diddy at Soho House, the members-only West Hollywood club known for its no-photo policy, celebrity clientele and floor to ceiling windows overlooking Beverly Hills.

He had the courtroom laughing as he described the scene:
“Sean Combs was standing there, staring out the window with his hands behind his back like a Marvel supervillain,” he said.
There’s the headline, I thought, as the room burst into another fit of laughter.

When the quote hit the internet, memes followed—many featuring Diddy in his infamous Joker costume.

“It was weird that he was so calm,” Cudi said, describing Diddy’s demeanor throughout the meeting.

Cudi said the meeting was about Cassie. Diddy kept saying, “We were homies,” confused why Cudi would be dating his girl. Cudi told him Cassie said they were broken up—he had no idea she was seeing them both.

“I was upset to find out she went back to him,” he told the jury.

I couldn’t help but wonder if these lyrics applied to Cassie, too:

“Girls that I dated, it’s okay, I am not mad, yo
Unless you stabbed me in the heart—no love, ho.”

Cassie may have cut him deep. But on the stand, there was no hate. No bitterness. Just a man recounting a time when he found himself at the center of a music industry love triangle. If the feds hadn’t forced him to reopen the wound, the only visible scar would’ve been the photos of his torched Porsche, now floating around the internet.

As they stood to leave, they shook hands. Still holding on, Cudi asked, “So what are we going to do about my car?”

Diddy gave him a cold stare and said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

A couple years later, Combs ran into Diddy again at Soho House. This time he was with his daughters and took Cudi aside and said sorry for everything.

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THE DEFENSE STEPS IN

The Defense Team Turns Cassie into The Villain

After Cudi finished testifying for the prosecution, the defense came in hot—clearly determined to flip the narrative and paint Cassie Ventura as the true villain. Their strategy was obvious: frame her as a manipulative, two-timing woman who “played” both rappers.

Cudi admitted he didn’t know Cassie was still involved with Diddy at the time. He confirmed he had strong feelings for her, and under questioning from attorney Brian Steel, even admitted he was in love. Cudi told the court that Cassie never disclosed any sexual abuse—only physical violence in her relationship with Combs.

The defense ran with that. They pushed the idea that Cassie had been living a double life, deceiving both men. Cudi didn’t fight it. He agreed: yes, she played him. Yes, she played Diddy too.

Prosecutors objected.
Overruled.

Steel pressed further: “Miss Ventura was living two different lives.”
“Yes,” Cudi replied.
Another objection.
Again, overruled.

The moment was tense. It was a calculated move to undermine Cassie’s credibility and reframe Diddy—and Cudi—as the real victims.

As I was leaving court, a woman in the hallway turned to me and said, “Girl, did you hear that? Cassie’s a player! She knew what she was doing.”

Later, I posted a TikTok breaking down the defense’s angle and how even people in the courtroom were falling for it. They wanted Cassie to be seen as some “ladies is pimps too, brush your shoulders off” type of operator—but online, most people weren’t buying it.

“If anything,” one top comment read, “hearing Cudi tell his story only made Cassie’s claims more believable.”

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Cudi Thanks Fans After Testimony

After wrapping up his testimony, Cudi uploaded a selfie online, thanking his fans for their support.

"I've been seeing all the love and support, and I just wanna say thank you so much, man," he said. "People have been hitting me up the past week just checking in and, and even today, and I just, it really means a lot to me, man. You guys are the best. I love y'all. This is a stressful situation. I'm glad it's behind me and yeah, I love y'all, man,” Cudi said.

Rap Peers Attack Cudi

Someone might need to start a “YoungThugsPosts” account. Young Thug pulled a Ye with a quick post and delete, calling Cudi “rat” for testifying.

A day later, Ye posted “I wish Cudi hadn’t testified against Puff. We need to not be locked in white systems. Praying for Puff and his family. Praying for Puff Daddy and the Family.”

“Coming from the king snitch himself, this is rich,” a Ye fan texted me, reminding me that just weeks ago Ye himself said that he’d snitch on everyone if he had to.

Comments Exploded Criticizing Ye’s Post

“Not surprised—there’s been rumors about Ye doing sketchy stuff with Diddy for years.”

“You’ve been friends with Kid Cudi for 15+ years, built careers together… and Diddy hasn’t even made a song with you. But go off, Ye.”

“This isn’t about race. If the feds subpoena you, you go.”

“He wants to free puff because he’s complicit. He did the same things Puff was doing. Abused his power thinking he’s above the law and better than everyone else. There needs to be accountability for these powerful dudes thinking they are God.”

“Cudi stayed quiet for years. He never said a word about Cassie or Puff. He got called by the feds—what was he supposed to do? Go to jail for the guy who blew up his car, harmed his dog, and ruined his relationship?”

“Abusers keep winning because of these ‘don’t snitch’ clowns.”

“Figures. They’re both cucks.”

Ye’s Longstanding Beef with Cudi

In my opinion, a lot of people missed the deeper issue here.

Ye’s been mad at Cudi since 2022—when he publicly called him out for staying friends with Pete Davidson aka Skete during his messy divorce from Kim Kardashian. Ye felt betrayed by Cudi and said Cudi chose Skete over him.

“I JUST WANTED MY FRIEND TO HAVE MY BACK THE KNIFE JUST GOES IN DEEPER.”

“THE REASON I ASKED CUDI TO AT THE LEAST SPEAK TO SKETE IS BECAUSE FOR YEARS CUDI ALWAYS MADE IT SEEM LIKE IT WAS ME AND HIM AGAINST EVERYONE NOW THAT IM FIGHTING FOR MY FAMILY HE NOT BY MY SIDE THIS IS BIGGER THAN MUSIC.”

Ye later announced Cudi wouldn’t be on Donda because he was friends with “you know who.” Cudi clapped back, called Ye a “dinosaur,” and said he’d never work with him again anyways.

That’s when the “Mid Cudi” nickname started bouncing around Ye’s fanbase. Some said the hate was “forced” and “cringe.” Others followed Ye’s lead and piled on.

The world thought they patched things up in December 2023, when Cudi showed up to the Vegas Vultures 1 afterparty and gave Ye a hug at 3:00 AM.

But anyone who follows Ye closely knows, Ye forgives and never forgets, especially when it comes to celebrity friends who stayed silent when he was fighting for his family. I knew they never truly made up.

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One Last Prayer

So in 2022, Cudi was praying for Ye.
In 2025, Ye is praying for Diddy.
And me? I’m still over here praying for Cudi—listening to “The Prayer” on repeat. (If I play it enough, maybe next time I see him, I won’t butcher the lyrics when I try sing-screaming them at him).

“And if I die before I wake
I pray the Lord my soul to take
But please don't cry
Just know that I have made these songs for you...”

If anyone needs prayers right now, it’s Cudi. The whole world’s speculating whether or not he’s a “snitch” for testifying, failing to understand that he didn’t have a choice. Haters can hate but there really isn’t a more polite way to say “my car got firebombed.”

His testimony didn’t feel like revenge. He wasn’t dragging Diddy or taking shots at Cassie. He was just a man recalling a brief Hollywood romance that didn’t last forever, and eventually went down in flames- the kind of toxic love Taylor Swift warned us about. The kind of story you only tell under oath because there’s no polite way to explain, “My car got firebombed.”

Cudi’s testimony mirrored his music- raw, emotional and a little bit funny. But under the laughs, you could feel it—regret, confusion, maybe even fear.

Some online users were furious Cudi said Cassie had “played him,” calling it a betrayal that undercut her experience. But others saw the bigger picture: his testimony ultimately strengthened the prosecution.

His story about the 2011 incident laid the groundwork for Capricorn Clark, who’s expected to take the stand this week. She’ll reportedly fill in the missing pieces—alleging she was kidnapped by Diddy and brought to Cudi’s house during one of his so-called revenge missions.

“Cause I’m ready for the funeral.”

And suddenly, the chorus hits a little different.

So does this one:

“I'm on the pursuit of happiness and I know
Everything that shine ain't always gonna be gold”

For Diddy, everything that shined was gold. But Cudi, all the wiser, knew better.