Like Knight and Day?

Also pending: a civil trial related to the 1997 murder of rap star Christopher Wallace -- a.k.a. Notorious B.I.G. and Biggie Smalls -- and his family's allegations that it was rogue L.A. cops, hired by Death Row, who had gunned down Biggie as part of the East Coast-West Coast rap feud. (The first civil suit ended in a mistrial; the police department declined to comment on the suit. Knight has denied any involvement in the murder.)

Knight's past is playing out in the courts at a time when rap, as an art form and an industry, is at a crossroads. Last December, the rapper Nas declared that "hip-hop is dead," and indeed, the genre seems to be in need of resuscitation. Record sales are plunging while the misogyny and nihilistic posturing of gangsta rap has taken a drubbing, thanks to the heat generated from Don Imus and his infamous three-word slur. Rap mogul Russell Simmons called for a moratorium on the use of "bitch," "ho" and the N-word. Last month, Master P joined the call, confessing, "I was part of the problem, now I want to be a part of the solution. We need to glorify the positiveness in hip-hop."

These days, Knight -- who has been in and out of prison since 1996 for probation violations -- is hopping aboard the positivity train: He says he has plans to pull the entire Death Row catalogue and bleep out each and every instance of "the N-word" (a term he now uses) in its songs. Which would make for a mighty bleep-filled catalogue.

"To me, it's not never too late to change," he says. "I pray more."

In Death Row's glory days in the '90s -- when the roster of Dr. Dre, Snoop Dogg and Tupac Shakur reportedly generated sales of $200 million -- the public Suge was all scowls and sullen glares, a persona crafted around an aura of menace and savage hyperbole. These days, the public Suge is surprisingly sweet-natured, soft-spoken and courtly, serving up an image of the gentle giant at play.

Perhaps it's a PR ploy to help hype his reality show. Seven episodes are in the can.

He'll call a reporter just to chat ("I told my mom you'd be calling her") or send a text message ("Whats up"). At a restaurant, he's the old-fashioned gentleman, ordering for a female friend, Toi-Lin Kelly. "I had a preconceived notion," says Kelly, a 26-year-old with an MBA from USC and hopes of opening a chain of men's nail salons.

"I was scared of what his lifestyle would bring, if he had danger around him. But this 'I'm scared of Suge' thing, I don't get. He's sensitive and respectful."

Which is the real Suge? Hard to say. But one thing is clear: He's a man accustomed to being in control, of enjoying a cushy life of privilege, of manipulating perceptions.

'I Hate Snitches'

To spend time with Knight means waiting. Hours upon hours, until he finally shows up and spends hours upon hours talking and talking. Breaking down life according to Suge ("You can get rich with the Devil's money, but you can only be happy with God's money") and slyly dodging direct questions about things he'd rather not talk about. Like his purported gang affiliations. ("Am I a Blood? I've got blood in my veins.")

Conducting an interview with him is akin to trying to play double Dutch. You stand on the sidelines, watching the ropes turn and turn, waiting for a chance to jump in. Except that turn rarely comes, because Knight is a man with opinions that he loves to share. In a monologue.

Like: "I hate snitches. My parents taught me, don't be a tattletale. You go out and deal with it." And: "Women have issues. Men have problems. You grow up in the ghetto, you better be a problem solver." And: "The only kind of wine I like is from 1955 or 1963, about $6,000 a bottle. It tastes real smooth. You think about the price, but it's worth it."