In the world of hip-hop, few names command the respect and sheer awe that Percy Robert Miller, better known as Master P, does. For a fleeting, glorious period in the late 1990s, the CEO of No Limit Records wasn’t just a rapper; he was an economic force, a visionary who reshaped the music industry, transforming a $10,000 inheritance into a staggering $480 million empire. His motto was simple, yet profound: “I’m Bout It.” He was about the hustle, about the ownership, and about putting his whole city on the map.

Yet, as spectacular as the rise of the No Limit Tank was, the story of Master P is not defined by the height of his success. It is defined by the depth of his fall, the crushing weight of personal tragedy, and his unmatched ability to reinvent himself, not just once, but over and over again. Master P finalized his exit from the rap game with a farewell performance, only to shock the world by taking on a new, unexpected mantle: Coach P, the President of Basketball Operations and Head Coach for the University of New Orleans Privateers men’s basketball team.

This radical career shift from platinum plaques to the sidelines of a college court is not a whim of a rich man looking for a hobby; it is the ultimate act of reinvention by a warrior who has navigated financial ruin, decades-long feuds, and devastating family loss.

From the Calliope Trenches to an Unprecedented Blueprint

To understand the man, you must understand the foundation. Percy Miller was born and raised in the notoriously rough Calliope housing projects of New Orleans. Survival was not a given; it was a daily calculation. Despite the odds, Miller exhibited a rare blend of street smarts and academic discipline, even playing college basketball before making a pivot that would change his life’s trajectory: transferring to Merritt College to study Business Administration.

That choice—to study the game behind the game—is the single most important detail in the No Limit saga. Tragedy and opportunity intersected when Master P’s grandfather passed away. From a malpractice settlement, Miller inherited $10,000. While most young men would have blown the money on fleeting luxuries, Master P saw a future. He invested every dollar into opening a record store in Richmond, California, planting the first seed of his empire.

The next year, another tragedy, the murder of his brother Kevin, solidified his purpose, fueling an intense desire to escape and put his loved ones on. No Limit Records was launched, and Master P, with an iron will forged in the streets, made the one decision that set him apart from every other artist of his era: ownership.

When he secured a distribution deal with Priority Records, he didn’t sign away his destiny. He kept an unprecedented 85% of sales and, crucially, retained ownership of his masters. This revolutionary model, which rejected the traditional exploitation of artists, became the foundational blueprint that modern independent giants would later follow. The message was clear: you don’t have to sell your soul to sell millions of records.

The explosion was swift. From Ice Cream Man to Ghetto D and MP Da Last Don, Master P dominated the charts. He was signing Snoop Dogg, producing films that grossed millions on meager budgets, and watching his clothing line take off. In that single, breathtaking year, No Limit Records brought in nearly half a billion dollars, proving that the hustle had paid off in ways no one, least of all the major label executives, had ever predicted.

The Cracks in the Tank: Personal Scars and Public Ruin

The same relentless strategy that built the empire—flooding the market with non-stop releases—eventually led to diminishing returns. The balancing act between the hardcore street sound and family-friendly pivots, like promoting his son Lil Romeo, created an identity crisis. Lawsuits and splintering rosters eventually forced No Limit Records to file for bankruptcy. The financial collapse was devastating, yet it was the personal tragedies that truly tested the mogul’s spirit.

The pain started early with the loss of his brother Kevin, but it deepened with the legal saga of his brother, Cory “C-Murder” Miller, who was locked up for murder. Master P has fought against the conviction for two decades, enduring the unique burden of unprecedented success while his own blood languished behind bars.

Then, the unthinkable happened: his daughter, Tatiana Miller, passed away at just 29 from an accidental fentanyl overdose. She had been struggling with addiction and mental health issues. While fame often demands a facade of perfection, Master P refused to hide. He spoke openly about the pain, using his platform to advocate for mental illness and substance abuse awareness, channeling his grief into a public call for help.

His marriage also crumbled under the pressure of fame and tragedy. After 24 years, his divorce from ex-wife Sonya C exposed the toll that maintaining a public image had taken on his private life, with Master P later admitting he had hidden her problems during the marriage. The gold and the glamour had shielded him from the world, but not from the pain of his own family’s struggles.

NOLA’s Final Score: The Verzuz That Exploded

For years, the most captivating tension in hip-hop was the unspoken rivalry between Master P’s No Limit and Birdman’s Cash Money, two New Orleans titans who rose to dominance on parallel, yet distinct, paths. This was not a typical beef; it was layered in history, rooted in the project loyalties of the Calliope and the Magnolia, and darkened by rumors of violence, including accusations that Birdman’s brother was linked to the killing of Master P’s cousin.

The tension finally came to a head at ComplexCon during the Cash Money versus No Limit Verzuz battle. What was marketed as a NOLA unity celebration quickly turned tense when Birdman launched into a rant about disloyalty, with his eyes locked firmly on Master P’s side of the stage.

In a perfect display of boss energy, Master P delivered the clap-back the culture had been waiting decades for. When Birdman claimed he “started that stunt,” Master P retorted, “i got to give it to Bird man he started that stunt you know I started that well guess what i was uptown too and I started that that was Master P’s clap back delivered with the perfect timing of an OG who had been waiting decades to say them words.” The crowd went wild.

The moment that followed was the most ambiguous. Master P crossed the stage to offer Birdman a “DAP and a salute.” Was it a genuine truce, or merely two seasoned warriors acknowledging their shared history before retreating to their separate corners? The fact that Birdman dipped out quickly afterwards, coupled with Lil Wayne’s conspicuous absence, fueled social media theories that the beef still lingered.

The Evolution of Coach P: Purpose Beyond Profit

Through bankruptcy, tragedy, and the constant pressure of a multi-million dollar empire, Master P never stopped moving. Even as the Tank crumbled, he was already building the next thing: Goodter Music, No Limit Forever, producing films, and diversifying his holdings.

His empire was built on a much more stable foundation, with an estimated net worth of $200 million, stacked through ventures like Uncle P’s Spice Brand, real estate holdings, energy drinks, and an honorary doctorate. But the ultimate act of evolution was leaving the stage.

His farewell performance at the Essence Festival wasn’t a retreat, but an advancement. His explanation was clear: he was “growing to another level” and needed to focus on the positive, non-chart-related battles. This decision cleared the way for his most profound reinvention: Coach P.

Percy Miller was appointed as the President of Basketball Operations and Head Coach for the University of New Orleans Privateers. For a man who had NBA dreams before fame intervened, this was a full-circle moment. But his approach to coaching is purely P Miller: it’s about mentorship over metrics.

Coach P quickly transformed the program, recruiting new players and overseeing major facility upgrades. His focus, however, is not just on wins and losses, but on life skills. He posts Bible verses in the locker room and emphasizes guiding his “young Bulls” safely through the fire to the other side. He personally funded tickets for 4,000 middle schoolers to attend games, using his new role to boost community pride and plant college dreams in young minds.

The critiques came quickly, with some online questioning his lack of a college coaching degree. But supporters counter that the program doesn’t need another career coach; it needs a visionary who knows how to build something from absolutely nothing, a man who knows the streets and the boardroom.

Master P didn’t fully retire from relevance; he just started picking his spots more carefully. The surprise album he dropped the same night as the Verzuz battle proved he can still slide through for high-impact moments. What happened to Master P is the most incredible, enduring story of his life: he evolved. From the trenches to the record store, from the empire’s peak to its bankruptcy, from personal tragedy to public advocacy, and finally, from entertainment mogul to Coach, Percy Miller stands as living proof that reinvention is not just possible—it’s the essential move for any true boss. He didn’t just survive the game; he fundamentally changed how it’s played, leaving a legacy of ownership and mentorship that will endure far longer than any platinum plaque.