Law enforcement sources tell us L.A. County Sheriff’s deputies took T.I. and Tameka into custody in West Hollywood.

The couple just got married on July 30 in Miami.

T.I. — real name Clifford Harris Jr. — is on probation after doing prison time on federal weapons charges.

We’re told T.I. and Tameka are both in custody right now.

In the interview Diddy states that contrary to popular reports, he has never cheated or robbed any of the artists on his label nor mistreated them.

“There’s an off perception that needs to be addressed about me that I have ever robbed somebody or mistreated somebody,” Diddy said in the interview. “Or tried to be ruthless or whatever in this game. Like, all this year I’ve heard people say, “Where’s Carl Thomas, where’s Black Rob, where’s G.Dep? Where are these artists?”

And for some reason they go ahead and equate that, cause those artists aren’t with me, that I’ve done something wrong or malicious or conniving. It’s something that I do have a problem with because they don’t have no proof that I’ve ever done nothing like that.”

Diddy also discussed the misconception that he doesn’t help out the artists on his label or give new artists a chance.

“It’s a misconception. Especially someone who’s been brought up like me,” Diddy continued. “I’ve been brought up to work hard for mine and never take from nobody. And to always try and help people. But people don’t understand this game that were in. You have a short life expectancy. It’s rare to a me, to be a Jay-Z, an LL, a Nas.

That sh*t is a rarity. That’s not even one percent of the rappers. If you look at any artists that were on Ruff Ryders, where they at? If you look at any artist that was on Def Jam at the time we started, where they at? If you look at any artist that was on Roc-A-Fella, Jive, where they at? It’s not like anything was wong with them. It’s just that you have a four, five-year average in this game. That’s just something I wanted to address.

The actor and entertainment mogul who is the creative force behind TBS sitcoms “Meet the Browns” and “House of Payne,” may soon take up residence in north Fulton County. Perry is the new owner of Dean Gardens, a 58-acre estate on Old Alabama Road in Johns Creek, according to a person with direct knowledge of the deal.

The $7.6 million property sale was completed in late July, according to FMLS, the local real estate listing service, but the buyer was not named. The house, most recently assessed at $6.5 million, took more than four years to build. Off and on the market for 15 years, it was to have been the dream home of the former property owner Larry Dean and his former wife, Lynda, but they separated not long after construction was completed.

Perry’s publicist did not respond to e-mails for comment.

“There is a buzz around town,” said Mike Bodker, mayor of Johns Creek. “I’ve not officially heard, but if it is true, I’m sure the citizens of Johns Creek will gladly and openly welcome Mr. Perry.”

The 32,000-square-foot mansion currently on the property will be torn down and it is believed Perry will build his own home. The gardens and location along the Chattahoochee River were two of Perry’s favorite features of the property, the source said.

Bodker said Perry’s desire to keep the land as a private residence will likely come as a relief to many in the area. He said there were mixed opinions on the best solutions for the property but that “this will be a great benefit to the citizens.”

“I haven’t had the opportunity to meet or speak with Mr. Perry, but it is my hope that he will become an active citizen of Johns Creek,” Bodker said.

And while plenty of rap and R&B artists have absorbed his influence– from fellow Detroit resident Black Milk’s excellent Tronic to Kanye West’s production on Common’s Finding Forever– his influence isn’t limited to hip-hop and neo-soul. Flying Lotus picked up on elements of Dilla’s style for his 2006 debut album 1983– underwater basslines, stripped-down snare-tap percussion, bristling synths, textural hiss– and has been boldly mutating them into a new strain of b-boy IDM ever since, culminating with this year’s expansive Cosmogramma. He’s at the vanguard, but he’s not alone; artists on L.A. labels like Brainfeeder, Alpha Pup, and Proximal Records have hit creative paydirt by siphoning Dilla’s ear for rhythmic suppleness through electro, dubstep, and ambient funk. The future of underground hip-hop is starting to sound a lot like the heavier, more blown-out moments of Jay Dee’s once-alienating circa-2002 psychedelic experimentation, manifested through analog-pulse interpreters like Alex B and E.SupeR. And for all the jokes about 1980s nostalgia and bro-ishness that’ve been pinned on chillwave, some of its best practitioners– Javelin, Washed Out, Toro Y Moi– bear the distinct imprint of Dilla’s latter-era productions, drawing off the truncated loop-warping of Donuts to craft their own emotionally evocative interpretations of lo-fi, sample-based indie pop.

This inevitably brings us to a skeptical question: Why Dilla? Yancey’s death during a peak period of creativity has led to a lot of attempts to extend a relatively slept-on legacy– an ironic development for an artist whose most high-profile remixing job was of Janet Jackson’s “Got ‘Til It’s Gone”. His story has a lot of indie-lifestyle appeal, too: a fast rise defined more by sonic innovation than personality-cult gimmickry, a rule-breaking stylistic shift that mainstream fans and major labels rejected, and an artistic rebirth with a popular underground label. Compared to Timbaland and the Neptunes, his peers in forward-thinking hip-hop, he was less prominent and less trendy. This semi-outsider prestige was heightened by his tendency to shun the celebrity spotlight. And even with his revered status, there’s still plenty of opportunities to oppose conventional wisdom in Dilla’s defense, allowing contrarian claims that the last two A Tribe Called Quest albums were underrated or that Common’s Electric Circus was ahead of its time.

But those are relatively superficial reasons, at least compared to Dilla’s true appeal. His immaculate sense of rhythmic interplay and carefully built atmospherics were what put him in the upper echelon of producers in the late 1990s, and his creative restlessness and experimentation were what kept him there through the 00s. He was never content to wring every last drop out of one of his stylistic phases, opting instead to move on once he felt he’d hit a particular zenith. This left him with a body of work that was a succession of distinct yet naturally progressing phases, exploring and evolving where other great producers were merely content to inch forward or simply maintain. And that’s how he managed to be such a distinct influence on so many artists, whether they were traditional hip-hop heads, farsighted futurists, or home-studio 4-track operators.