This week has been a roller-coaster for fans of “Rap’s Most Dangerous Group”: N.W.A. On Monday (June 8), it was revealed that Ice Cube will reunite on stage with DJ Yella for the first time since 1989. MC Ren will be there too as part of Los Angeles, California’s BET Experience. Moreover, according to Cube, Dr. Dre may even bless the stage “If you wish upon a star.” This would make history, and arguably reunite one of Hip-Hop’s most important groups for the first time in more than 25 years—or before YG was even born.

The news felt good to core fans of N.W.A., 15 years removed from an awkward attempt to re-form the group with Eazy-E deceased, Snoop Dogg pinch-hitting, and Yella inexplicably not included. Additionally, as Cube and Dre have been doing the press for August 14’s upcoming Straight Outta Compton biopic, it was a rare opportunity to see Yella and Ren mentioned in any headline.

Coincidentally, that scarcity of inclusion would prove to be a sticking point by Wednesday (June 10). MC Ren—never one to mince words—took to Twitter to lambaste Straight Outta Compton‘s marketing teams for “leaving [him] out of movie trailers” and “tryin’ to rewrite history.” Notably, the MC born Lorenzo “Ren” Patterson criticized Universal Pictures, the film studio. However, Dre, Cube, and Eazy-E’s widow, Tomica Woods-Wright are the film producers. In a group looking to repair some of its wounds 25 years later through a decorated look at trailblazing and legacy, are things getting cyclical? While that answer will prove itself with time, perhaps the more appropriate question is, does MC Ren have a point?

In 2015, Dr. Dre flirts with billionaire status. Ice Cube has gone from AmeriKKKa’s Most Wanted to an entertainment mogul. Both men have become Hollywood A-listers. Meanwhile, 20 years removed from his tragic and controversial death, Eazy-E remains one of Rap’s eternal pioneers. The mastermind behind N.W.A., Straight Outta Compton will invariably immortalize Eric Wright as Rap’s hustler-rapper originator, ladies man, and Gangsta Rap visionary. That’s the “big three,” but what about the other two members?

MC Ren may have good reason to be angry. Of the living members of the group, it is Ren who is closest to his roots as the outspoken, street-tough MC from Compton, California. While Cube is remembered as the shining lyricist of Straight Outta Compton (the album), who held down follow-ups 100 Miles and Runnin’ and Efil4zaggin down? On both singles, “Appetite For Destruction” and “Alwayz Into Somethin’,” Ren had the flow, the piercing lyrics, and the attitude that made N.W.A. weather the storm of watching Ice Cube leave, and thrive.

Similarly to an Inspectah Deck or a Khujo Goodie, MC Ren lives in the shadows of some of his band-mates. However, to lovers of lyrics, Ren is revered. He penned his own rhymes, a decoration that at least two of his band-mates cannot fully claim. Moreover, Ren’s fast, sure-handed flows were incredibly innovative for the late ’80s, a time when mono-syllabic rhyme styles were still acceptable. By the early ’90s, Ren’s skills had advanced, keeping up with faster-paced tracks, and winning over N.W.A. fans who could’ve easily dismissed the group as media hype.

“Because the times are so wrong, gotta stay so strong
Niggas gotta keep it goin on and on
And don’t let no paleface throw your ass in a snail race
Have your residence occupyin a jail space
That’s what they want to do cause the system is fucked around
I try to let you know with the records that’s underground” – MC Ren, “Real Niggaz Don’t Die”

Like the Fullback or the Center on a winning offense, MC Ren helped move the ball up the field so many times for Niggas Wit’ Attitude, even if he was often not credited with the score. It was Ren’s political, racial, and religious views that were clearly spoofed in CB4‘s “Euripides” character. Funny in the film, the reality is that Lorenzo Patterson’s Pro-Black messages and public conversion to Islam were critical parts of N.W.A.’s complete makeup. For a group often remembered for spitting in the face of conservative America, MC Ren cemented the front-lines. Undoubtedly, the biopic will examine the fact that five young Black men from South Central, Los Angeles would make the old guard uncomfortable while simultaneously grabbing their children’s eardrums. Was Ren not one of the most antagonistic voices of the group? Or does he eternally play the backseat to the much more media-savvy Cube, despite being in N.W.A. twice as long?

“I said fuck the police but with a little more force
And maybe now I get my point across
It’s a lot here that’s goin on, just open your eyes and look
Everyday a young nigga is took
Off the face of the street by a police
It’s like they gotta a nigga chained on a short leash
You can’t leave out the city that they shacked up
Cause if you do that’s the right they got you jacked up
It’s embarassin because you know they justice, but all you can do
Is say fuck this, because if you move, that’s all she wrote” – MC Ren, “Sa Prize (Part 2)

As media analyzes Ice Cube’s incredibly potent opening lines from 1988’s “Fuck Tha Police” for their timeless effect, dig a little deeper and that credit is easy to share. MC Ren’s mind, pen, and lyrical delivery are elite. But history, and those writing it, can be cruel.

MC Ren’s moves have not been mainstream since N.W.A.’s 1991 disbanding. While 1992 EP, Kiss My Black Azz predated Dr. Dre’s The Chronic, anticipation was already focused on Dre and his skinny protege Snoop Dogg, following 1991’s “Deep Cover.” However, Ren was not playing with a handicap. His DJ Bobcat-produced EP nearly cracked the Top 10, and 1993’s Shock Of The Hour scored a gold plaque, and a #22 debut. Amidst an on-record conversion to Islam, MC Ren was far less marketable to the mainstream, than the 40-guzzling, lowrider-dippin’, locc-wearing counterparts—all images notably included in Straight Outta Compton‘s trailer.

Take away the delivery or the content, and MC Ren is a testament of loyalty to Eazy and his widow. By 1998’s Ruthless For Life, MC Ren was a flagship artist on a label that had faded from glory. Moreover, the N.W.A. alum proverbially wore the chain, even on his last big label album. Suffering through the second half of the 1990s, it was not until ’99’s 2001 reunion with Dr. Dre that MC Ren appeared mainstream again, and arguably tokenized at that. The villain was included in both unofficial N.W.A. records, as well as the Up In Smoke Tour. But after Dre’s tour raked in millions, Cube got a special single, and then promoted Next Friday with a high profile soundtrack single, what next? Without much—save for a couple of DIY releases in the last 15 years, Straight Outta Compton appeared to be the clear answer.

That was definitely the answer for DJ Yella, who stepped out of the music spotlight in the late 1990s. Yella, deeply affected by Eazy-E’s death, made a lone, largely forgettable album, and then stepped to the front door. Mention DJ Yella to most novice Rap fans, and they’ll usually tell you about porn. Antoine Carraby has, in fact, produced and directed XXX—lots of it, reportedly 300 titles. However, because N.W.A. did not feature scratching to the extent heard by groups like Run-DMC, EPMD, or Stetsasonic, his accomplishments are often downplayed. Yella didn’t brandish guns in interviews, or pop out lenses from his glasses, he barely said anything. However, like the shyer days of DJ Premier in Gang Starr, or Terminator X in Public Enemy, he spoke with his hands.

As Dr. Dre is commonly associated with a studio ensemble at his side (Daz Dillinger, Scott Storch, Sam Sneed, DJ Khalil, Mel-Man, Warren G), DJ Yella may have been the first. Together, the Compton kids got their start in World Class Wreckin’ Cru—a group that history has not embraced. However, when street impresario Eazy-E wanted sounds for his foray into Rap music, Dre and Yella were who he sought out. Both men helped drive Dance hits for the Electro group who later scored Epic Records backing. Yella was twisting the studio knobs with Dre. He was credited with Rapped In Romance‘s sampling, drum programming, scratching, and mixing, right alongside Dre.

At Ruthless, Dre and Yella had a formula. Cube’s separation from N.W.A. brought attention to the group’s sonic prowess—something Cube was going to be unable to replace. In that discussion, Dre stepped up as the face of G-Funk, clever sampling, and those deeply orchestrated street anthems that made Niggas Wit’ Attitude sound mighty. But where did Dre’s craftsmanship begin and Yella’s end? Both men would supply The D.O.C., J.J. Fad, and Michel’le with acclaimed music. Yella and (questionably) Eazy-E produced Bone Thugs-N-Harmony’s first hit, “Foe tha Love of $” three years removed from Dre’s departure. With Yella, Eazy-E also produced his last works. But in crediting Dre’s early sounds, to quote Jay Z, “where’s the love?”

DJ Yella has not spoken out against Straight Outta Compton, or its trailers. The CPT native has stayed true to his 1980s self: mostly quiet, but present. As there are grumblings about potential soundtrack work prompting reunions, perhaps Dr. Dre and DJ Yella’s reunion behind the track-boards is as exciting as the three MCs. Before that though, could a film share the credit—like those N.W.A. liner notes—that the mainstream never did?

Nobody wants to be Ringo Starr, or Tito Jackson. There’s the fourth or fifth man in all things. In the case of N.W.A.’s Straight Outta Compton biopic, the film has many presumed motives. This film is a chance to make a public armistice between Dre, Cube, and Eazy-E—stepping over “No Vaseline” and “F Wit’ Dre Day.” This film is presumed to place blame on Eazy-E’s business partner Jerry Heller for Cube’s exodus, and vilify security guard-turned-mogul Suge Knight for Dre’s exit two years later. Whether or not those portrayals are accurate or fair will remain in debate, as Knight’s on-set antics could cost him his freedom for the rest of his life. But will the film identify the two N.W.A. members who stood beside Eazy, who never left the group, and arguably took a lesser road to stay the course of authenticity? Straight Outta Compton is a prime opportunity to show four men from Compton, California—and South Central’s Ice Cube together, in spirit, celebrating what they’ve built. A trailer is just that—a trailer. Let’s see if the the film tells the full story of the world’s most dangerous group…all of them.

Everybody working in the marketing department for the NWA movie should be fired!!!!! #incompetence

— MC REN (@mcrencpt) June 12, 2015

Related: MC Ren Gets Ruthless About N.W.A. “Straight Outta Compton” Trailers

Recently, Ambrosia For Heads spoke with David Banner. The Jackson, Mississippi native MC/producer/actor spoke about DJ EFN’s Another Time album, particularly his “Warrior” verse. However, while speaking with AFH, the veteran Crooked Lettaz alum spoke about one of his most beloved works, 2010’s Death Of A Pop Star LP, a collaboration with 9th Wonder.

Notably, the late December independent LP did not get near the Top 10 (something Banner had achieved in Mississippi: The Album, Certified, and The Greatest Story Ever Told). However, the Big Face/It’s A Wonderful World Music Group effort is often considered a standout album in both artist’s catalogs.

Banner was asked if he felt the eOne Entertainment-distributed effort would be something that would reach the masses more with time. Banner maintained that the LP, which features Ludacris, Erykah Badu, and Anthony Hamilton has a resounding reach. “Death Of A Pop Star gets a little more attention [than others]. Because what people don’t understand about me is that I usually do most of the work. The reason why, lyrically, it was so dope was because 9^th Wonder did [all of] the beats. Most of the time, I do all of the beats.” Banner continued that from his experiences, even with SRC/Universal, he was used to funding the albums, arranging tours, videos, and more. D.O.A.P. afforded him a team effort. “I can’t do everything. It just gets rough.” Each musician divided the load on the 2010 LP, allowing Banner to focus his attentions on lyrics and delivery.

Released in the same four weeks as Kanye West’s My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy, Nicki Minaj’s Pink Friday, and T.I.’s No Mercy, it was a crowded and competitive season for Hip-Hop. Reacting to a criticism he personally heard surrounding the album four-and-a-half-years later, Banner declared, “The thing about Death Of A Pop Star is that people said that they wanted better music [from it], and I think that’s a lie. They just want music from who they want it from, because Death Of A Pop Star was the best album that year when it came out.” David Banner also said that the album’s true resonance was restrained by major sample issues. “If you could hear the original album…the original album is at least seven times better than the replayed record. It hurts sometimes.”

Although many details are forthcoming, Banner did confirm a Death Of A Pop Star 2 in the works between he and 9th Wonder. Additionally, the producer for Lil Wayne, T.I., and Luda’ added that a third artist may join the fold. “We’re thinkin’ about it,” he said. “Somebody dope.” Without hard details, this work is expected following Banner’s The God Box! solo work, expected later in 2015—an album D.B. appeared especially proud of.

David, who remains active in scoring commercials, continued that the 2014 BET Cypher and fan reaction pushed him back in the lab. However, the MC from the Magnolia State maintains that even that moment beckoned more shine.

“Me and Big K.R.I.T were talking about this… when you’re from the South, or you’re not from a big market. I sort of almost feel like the San Antonio [Spurs] winning the [NBA] championship. You know when Sports Illustrated always puts out the special magazine. They run San Antonio for a week. If [The Los Angeles Lakers] or New York [Knicks] win, or whatever team they love at the time, they run it for two or three months. I sort of felt that way about The [BET] Cypher verse. If anyone else would have done that, people would have had a conniption fit. Bit it’s like ‘Oh, David Banner’…it’s sort of like the roach in the room. People act like they don’t see it. And I don’t get that, man.”

Stay tuned for more information on The God Box! and Death Of A Pop Star 2.

Related: DJ EFN Elevates DJ Albums & David Banner Explains One Potent Verse (Interview)

June 19 marked the 25th anniversary for Eric B. & Rakim’s third album, Let The Rhythm Hit ‘Em. Perhaps forever in the shadows of Paid In Full, and to a much lesser extent, Follow The Leader, L.T.R.H.E. is a black sheep within a truly classic catalog from the iconic pair. Three years later, Don’t Sweat The Technique (released 23 years ago today, to be exact) would signal the end of Eric B. & Rakim as a unit. Thus, in an eight-year run, third albums can suffer slings of being passed over, unless of course, you’re A Tribe Called Quest, Scarface or Naughty By Nature.

1990 remains one of Rap music’s most transitional years. Run-DMC were Back From Hell, while Digital Underground, Compton’s Most Wanted, X-Clan, and Brand Nubian formally introduced themselves. Ice Cube went solo, while Big Daddy Kane dabbled with R&B. Salt N’ Pepa and LL Cool J made mainstream comebacks—or so they were called, just several years removed from their mid-’80s breakthroughs.

Eric B. & Rakim needed no comeback as it were. The duo had achieved platinum and gold success already, before the dissolving of Uni Records into MCA. Rakim (with Kane and KRS-One) was widely revered as Hip-Hop’s elite MC. However, musically, the group had evolved from the days of the 12″ single, into the music video era. Now, as the Rap album was becoming more than just a sum of its parts, Eric Barrier and William Griffin were out to leave marks.

Let The Rhythm Hit ‘Em watched Rakim fill the void King Asiatic was arguably leaving with his Taste Of Chocolate album (which was still recording in June, 1990). Ra’ would steer his aggressive style on the title single. Cocky, confident, and rhyming with little room for breath, Rakim wanted to prove to his peers that a mid-80’s MC refused to give way to the expanded class. Only 10 tracks long, with a bonus remix, this effort showcased Rakim doing what others couldn’t. His flows were other-worldly, and songs like “Run For Cover” showed rhythms that no other MC could keep time with. “No Omega” showed Rakim in sixth gear, playing with his speed, and providing interplay with his DJ, not unlike drummers and horn players in Jazz.

However, this album was not strictly a rapper-showcase. Single “In The Ghetto” extended Rakim’s introspection. More than just a highly-technical flow, intelligent mind, and smooth microphone operator, Ra’ could get deep. This song was not Gangsta Rap, but certainly the same “Reality Rap” that peers like KRS, Ice Cube, Kool G Rap and Ice-T were toting. Rakim may be “paid in full,” but he was still a man of the people, who could write in a way that glorified communities across the globe that were often passed over in politics or social programs. “Step Back,” the very next song after “In The Ghetto” furthered the message. Rakim empowered his people, universally, beyond just borough, race, or something specific.

“Mahogany” would prove to be a seminal Hip-Hop love song. Here, Rakim flaunted his skills as a storyteller and a versatile songwriter. The Long Island, New Yorker added a hit to his repertoire. Moreover, as Kane would overtly aim for the female base (something he arguably secured since his career’s inception), Rakim Allah achieved it while staying the course.

Sonically, this album was in step with the advanced lyrics. Sadly, the LP’s credits (all slated towards Eric B & Rakim) have muddied the history. However, this was among the final albums that late engineer/producer Paul C. (a/k/a Paul McKasty) worked on. Paul was murdered in Queens, New York 11 months prior to the album’s release. In his absence, Paul’s protege, The Large Professor, was brought in. Uncredited (and an alleged source of tension to come), the man who would join the Main Source that year helped bring a totally different sound than heard on Paid In Full or Follow The Leader. 45 King also remixed the title track, arguably at the peak of his first era in Dance-Rap production and remixes.

Eric, who never rapped, did certainly appear to improve in his creative role. The scratching and DJ presence on the album improved. Rakim and Eric, who undoubtedly had a strong production hand, certainly shed their 1980s audio skins, and made an album that sounded somewhere between Critical Beatdown and Enta Da Stage. “Eric B. Made My Day,” the obligatory DJ cut may get lost in history. Barrier is often thought of as a street mastermind and a studio tough. However, for reports of his green hands on the turntables in the Paid In Full era, Rhythm showed just that, from the Queens, New Yorker.

History loves 1988, and it loves the early 1990s. In between, Let The Rhythm Hit ‘Em is an emblematic album of Rap music in change. Eric B. & Rakim were as hardcore as any act in Hip-Hop, and yet they weren’t prone to curses, sensationalism, or vulgarity. Rakim and Eric stood tall as Hip-Hop icons who had weathered the storm of the 1980s, moving from independence to mainstream. They were never corny, and never catered to trends. Instead, this defiantly New York musical experience set the very trends. Skills spoke the loudest, and the jewelry, confidence, and unimpressed attitude only enhanced the experience.

A “5 mic” album in The Source (when such things were paramount), Let The Rhythm Hit ‘Em may be truly the most cohesive album from Eric and Ra’. This LP catches them in the middle, comfortable with each other, and taking steps towards a fuller picture. No, the hits are not there—but just the same, there are no weaknesses on this album. Twenty five years later, it still plays beautifully, and cannot be criticized in its listening. Sure, there are unseen hands–such as Paul C., Large Professor, and presumably others. But like The Chronic or Ready To Die, that fact only adds to the album’s mystique and appeal. Additionally, this is most certainly the creative turning point that Rakim seems to draw from in his 20 years of solo pursuits since. Thoughtful, self-righteous, and street, this is how the God MC likes to appear before his believers.

Let The Rhythm Hit ‘Em is an appropriate title for this work’s sound, feel, and syncopated style throughout. Even as Eric B. & Rakim quietly appear together (as they did to accept a Long Island Music Hall Of Fame Award in 2010), this album says so much about what made them a great outfit. Paid In Full has the swagger and style. Follow The Leader is Rakim’s spotlight with the mic. Let The Rhythm Hit ‘Em, the album that made so many casual listeners into Hip-Hop Heads, celebrates the group, its impact, and the music that’s still hittin’.

Purchase Let The Rhythm Hit ‘Em by Eric B. & Rakim.

Related: Young Masters At Work: Eric B. & Rakim’s “My Melody” Rare 1986 Marley Marl Remix (Audio)

2015 is a monumental year for Skyzoo. While the journey extends back longer, it has been a decade since much of the Rap consciousness first heard the smooth cadence from the Brooklyn, New York MC. In that span, Sky’ has released and appeared on handfuls of acclaimed and charting albums. He was a top contender on “106 & Park’s” Freestyle Friday, and a mainstay performer. He has signed to high-profile labels, nabbed critical cosigns, and turned a dream into a profession. Once a basketball-obsessed teenager, the MC in Skyzoo has carried the ball up the court and put up numbers.

A decade in, Skyzoo finished Music For My Friends, a concept album that looks at his adolescence, the Bedford Stuyvesant streets he spent them on, and the circle he has kept ever since. Released early, the First Generation Rich LP steps beyond the frame of mind heard on celebrated releases like The Salvation, Theo vs. JJ, and last year’s Barrel Brothers project with Torae. Sky gets to write and rap from different vantage points, and it can be argued that the EMPIRE-distributed work treats the borough of Brooklyn as much like a protagonist as any human character. With the June release, Sky’ is also one of the confirmed headlining artists at 2015’s Brooklyn Hip-Hop Festival. The lyricist known for his strong images will not be new to the stage or the event, but the show serves as a testament to Skyzoo’s growth, his penetrating artwork, and the resonance of his message. Speaking with Ambrosia For Heads, S-K-Y explains his album, the significance of the July 11 concert, and Brooklyn (and other communities) could learn a little bit from Do The Right Thing.

Ambrosia For Heads (AFH): I love the documentary that leads up to the album…honestly, I never like those things, ‘cause I never thought it did much justice to the albums they promote, but I feel that yours only heightened my anticipation. It’s really well done…

Skyzoo: Well thank you man. I just think that as an independent artist nowadays it’s all about content, how much stuff you can throw up, and how can you make it count and worth something. [This was] where we break it down and go into the depths of [Music For My Friends], and show my old hood, stuff like that. It’s being received greatly; everybody’s like “word up!,” so it’s good. I’m glad it’s helping out as a view of what the project is.

AFH: I’ve probably gone to five of these Brooklyn Hip-Hop Festivals. In more than half of them, I’ve seen you, either backstage or in the crowd. This year, you are one of the headliners. What does that mean to you, especially as a Brooklyn native?

Skyzoo: well, as far as my career goes I am continuing to grow in a certain direction, and that’s what it’s all about: constant elevation. Whether it’s music or whether it’s outside of the booth or certain aspects of the career, it’s just about constant elevation. With the [Brooklyn Hip-Hop Festival], I had done the fest back in in 2010, and it was brief the way I did it. I was with Duck Down [Music] at the time; I’m not with Duck Down anymore. At the time, and it was like their 15th anniversary so they had a Duck Down anniversary set, with all of the Duck Down acts together in the same set—myself, Black Moon, Smif n’ Wessun, and we all kind of split 30 minutes. So to me, it wasn’t really me performing, you know, it was a Duck Down set, as opposed to my name being promoted. I didn’t get a chance to really, really cook the way I wanted to cook. It was like 10 minutes, and three songs. I like to really cook with my DJ, my trumpet player, 30 minutes, 25 minutes.

[Beyond that], it was something that every year, we’re like, “We gotta get to fest.” [There is always] a lot going on. [Brooklyn Hip-Hop Festival founder] Wes [Jackson] is kind of driving the car, and he has a million things on his plate [every year]. I was like, “Yo man, we gotta get this fest thing happening, man.” Every year when there’s a fest going on, you gotta have some [artists] from Brooklyn [performing].” And it just made sense this year. You know everything happens for a reason—with [my] new album coming out and [by July 11] I think the album will be two, three weeks old, the timing is perfect. I can literally rock records onstage and say, “You like that? Go pound it right now on iTunes or on your phone.” The timing is dope and it will still be fresh in somebodys’ mind and in peoples’ ears. So, it just panned out really nice.

AFH: With the theme of the title, I’m sure that some of these folks that influenced your album—that you will be promoting onstage—will also be in the crowd. Southpaw is gone, and I know venues have changed in the borough of Brooklyn. So how important at this stage is your career as an artist on the charts with catalog in stores, to be able to perform—to co-headline a festival within walking distance of where you grew up? I’m sure that people asked Jay Z the same question, when he showed up last year.

Skyzoo: Right, it’s huge. Like you said, as far as the venues, we lost a couple—and gained a couple in the process as well—but to have something for Brooklyn is really amazing, and the fest has really turned out to be the highlights of a New York summer—I would have to say [starting] like 10 or 11 years ago or something like that the fest has really turned out to be the highlights of a New York summer. You know that in New York, you’re gonna get your Central Park stuff, your Governor’s Ball stuff, or whatever. But you know you’re getting the fest, and you know it’s one day, a huge outdoor area, and everybody rocking out.

The thing I like about the fest the most is—why it was always important for me to be a part of it is that, I always felt like the fest was a dope representation of Hip-Hop because it had all these different walks of life in Hip-Hop that may have been different, but still connected to one-another, somehow. There was a year where you had Pusha T and Redman; this year you got Common and Mobb Deep, and then me and Charles Hamilton, I just think it’s a super-dope representation of all facets and spectrums of Hip-Hop, and that’s what makes it so important and so dope. And you know it’s outdoors and [there is] food, and you’re chillin’, and it’s Saturday and as long as the weather is right, there’s truly nothing that can go wrong that day.

AFH: When you and I first met, it was at a Rock the Bells in New York like ’07 or ’08. You were walking around networking, and among Kooley High and Torae—a series of artists who are all in great positions today. I want to ask you, how important are these events where the dividing line between the stage and the crowd is so thin, whether for you now, in this position, or the Sky’ who was just trying to get heard?

Skyzoo: Well, these events are everything [for] networking as well. If you’re not on stage or part of the event comings, as long [as aspiring artists] treat it the right way, you know what I’m saying. It’s all about those relationships, shaking hands, being humble, and being smart and strategic all at the same time. So, these festivals are super important for that.

AFH: Moving into the album, in the documentary, you talked about the concept, which is very literal to the title of this album. You’re an artist who has always thrived on concept, I feel. None of your projects are without cohesion. So with Music For For My Friends, you talked about what inspired it and you wanted to write about the stories of your friends and of your community. With that said, looking at other songs, what were some of the records you couldn’t make on this album? You know what I mean? Like, working within those confines, artistically, what did you stay away from?

Skyzoo: Hmmm…that’s a dope question. Like you said, I don’t step into an album unless I have a concept. Because I grew up on Ready To Die, I grew up on Liquid Swords, [Only Built 4 Cuban Linx…], Reasonable Doubt—I grew up on records that had cohesion, concepts, lyricism, stellar production and that’s just a part of my make-up; I can’t do anything but move the way I was built to move. So every album is going to have a concept and every album is going to have a cohesive A-to-Z and is going to be a story. But with that being said, I’ve always talked about my real life, my personal life, my upbringing, how I came up. This album goes a little bit deeper, and I guess that with this album I’m trying to think of old records that I may have not have been able to put on here. I got some records like “Langston’s Pen,”…I got some records that are written [in the past] that I couldn’t have put on here even though it’s a great record. I’m looking in the tracklist of records in my head of different albums, pardon me… I guess some records like “The Ellis Wilson Painting On The Wall,” which is one of my favorite records, which a lot of people had really stick to them… I guess that record, it could and then it couldn’t because that record was more about playing on the “Cosby” stuff and growing up a certain way and so much being expected of you.

The theme of the concept [of Music For My Friends] was really about seeing the world as you see it as an adult because how you grew up when you were 13 years old. And to me, I feel like the ages of 13 and 14 are your most formative years. Because when you’re 13, your voice is changing, your body’s changing and you’re interested in the opposite sex becoming somewhat of an adult, but at the same time, you still write a Christmas list for your parents, and you still got to be in the house by 10:00 and you’re still scared of certain things, and you still got to get permission for everything, and you’re still a kid; you still may watch cartoons but there’s a girl across the street and you can’t wait for her parents to leave so you can go over there and you’re still trying to figure something out. You’re caught between these two worlds when you’re 13, 14 years old. Whatever you see, and whatever you’re taught, and whatever is around you when you’re 13 and 14, is how you’re going to live the rest of your life. How you see the world, it’s going to shape your outlook, shape how you move, what you choose to do, and what you choose to believe in. So to me, I feel like those years are important and, here’s what happened to me when I was 13 and 14. So, here’s what happened to me when me and my friends when we were 13 and 14. And we’re still attached at the hip. And from the same place and the same community, the same background and the same horrors and the same ills, and the same triumphs at certain points. And my friends that I love more than anything went that way but we’re still connected.

AFH: Last week I was speaking with DJ Premier and he told me something interesting with this band that he’s touring with. The band is playing some of Premier’s favorites of his own production catalog that he could never tour with so he was telling me that they do an Ill Bill record, a Lord Finesse record, and sure enough, they told me they do a Skyzoo & Torae record. I don’t know which of the three. What does it mean to you—beyond just Premier—what does it mean for you to see your music taking a life of its own form?

Skyzoo: Off the top, right now I can tell you he’s talking about “Click.” I can tell you, I didn’t know any of this stuff, but knowing [DJ Premier], and knowing the great records that he has done with me and Torae, he’s definitely talking about “Click.” I mean, he loves “Click” more than any other record he has done with us. We’ve done three records at this point, and “Click” is his favorite. So that’s definitely what they’re performing.

[To answer your question], I mean, I think that’s what [MCs are] supposed to get in this game for. And the sad part of this is that a lot of these kids, a lot of these up-and-comers [feel differently]. You’re supposed to get into this game with the idea of longevity, with the music lasting today, tomorrow and forever, almost like a marriage. It’s about the music being around for as long as possible and having that impact in other areas and not just “Oh, the record pops on the radio, and we just get some club walk-through’s or we can get bottle service.” You know, that’s cool. I’m with that, and we can go to the club and have a good time, bottle service and there’s women everywhere, yeah, that’s cool, but it’s supposed to be more than that. Music is supposed to not stop there. And I think what the problem is nowadays is that a lot of these kids are content in having this ceiling that they designed, “If I can get there, I am good.” It’s like, oh okay, we know why you’re in this and it’s clearly not the reason why I’m in this. Because, besides the fact that I can make a living from this and hopefully build something for me and my family moving forward, it’s really about the longevity of it.

Photo by Photo Rob.

AFH: I am curious as to what you told me that this album recaptures some of the essence of friends that you had since childhood adolescences and the crossroads that most 13 and 14 year olds face, Brooklyn certainly changed, and it kind of affects the festival. Over the years, since 2004 and 2005, when Wes started the festival, the fashions have changed, the demographics have changed, Hip-Hop has changed, making this album and kind of going back to that place for you and standing on your block in the video and all of these different things, how do you reconcile this where the borough is today and where it appears to be heading?

Skyzoo: I dig the fact that it’s getting better. My only issue is that it doesn’t get to change for the better for the people who had to deal with it when it was at its worse. That’s my only issue with it. I have no problem with things getting better; we don’t want to live in a wasteland or live in a hellhole, or whatever it was we were told back in the ’90s. But for those that have endured it, for those that lived there when [The Notorious] B.I.G. made Ready To Die, and shot the video [on] the block I grew up on, with Big. All of those things he was talking about [in] “Everyday Struggle,” “Things Done Changed,” and “Gimme The Loot,” that was the block I was standing [on]. I was right there in the middle of that as a 12 or 13 year old kid. That was every day, and for those who had to live through that, they deserve [to enjoy it] when it gets better. If you had to deal with the rain every day, you deserve when the sun comes out to see it shine, you deserve that because you saw the other side.

I walk around the neighborhood and there are certain people that just moved there from other cities and they look at us like we’re not supposed to be there. It’s like “Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up,…you guys are more than welcome to enjoy it and kick it with us and all that, but don’t look at us like we’re not supposed to be there.” And I think that’s why Spike [Lee] went on his rant about two or three years ago, because those things are all true and it’s happened. It’s not because there’s a new influx of people are coming here it’s the fact that you’re looking at us like we’re out-of-towners, like we’re not supposed to be there. I can’t do it. That’s where the boiling point comes from. So it’s dope that it’s changing, as long as it doesn’t lose its identity and essence and what it’s about. As long as it doesn’t lose what Brooklyn and New York have been about as a whole, and not just the bad, but the good vibes. You watch a movie like Do the Right Thing–one of my top three movies ever—of course it’s about the racial side, it’s about police brutality and all that, but one of the biggest things you get from it that a lot of people forget to mention it when they see it, is the community aspect of it. [It is a place] where everybody knew everybody, and everybody understood who everybody was, and who the mayor was, and you never had a problem with it because you knew he would never hurt a fly. You knew that the mayor was a drunk, but he cared and looked out for everybody on that entire block. He knew everybody and made sure he looked out and protected everybody. We had a real mayor, my man Kelly, who died—he got killed on the block three doors from my house, got shot and died. Mr. Kelly, he was just like the mayor drinking all day, singing all day, and walking up and down the block, cleaning he had a broom and a dustpan making. Sure, the sidewalks were clean, and he had a shovel. He lived outside; he was homeless. We had a mayor, so I know exactly what that guy was like because we had one. [The block is] a humongous family, where everybody’s cool with everybody you know you run into each other at the store, or you crack jokes on each other when you’re walking by. There’s an old lady that lives on my block, and I can’t walk by the house without saying or talking [to her] about basketball. If I walk that way, she’s gonna stop me—an old West Indian lady that’s one of my best friends’ grandmother. So, it’s that thing you don’t want to lose: the community, man. I think that that’s beginning to get lost as well.

Purchase Music For My Friends by Skyzoo.

Purchase Tickets To The 2015 Brooklyn Hip-Hop Festival.

Related: Method Man Gets 100% Real About His Album, The Media & Why He No Longer Curses on Songs (Interview)

Following last month’s Bad Boy Records 20th anniversary set at the 2015 BET Awards, Puff Daddy announced that he is planning a tour with some of the artists he shared the stage with. Only mentioning Lil’ Kim by name (who, many know, was never an official Bad Boy Records artist), the label’s founder and CEO clearly reacted to the excitement of sharing the spotlight with Ma$e, 112, The LOX, and Faith Evans more than 15 years since “the shiny suit era” unofficially zipped up. Gizzle, one of BadBoy2K15’s artists, even told the world that Puffy is fast at work on No Way Out 2. Something retrospective appears in the air.

To some, a creative visionary like Puff Daddy going backwards is counter-intuitive. Sean Combs, Diddy, Puffy, Puff Daddy—has been as dynamic as his names. The Harlem, New Yorker took sampling and the Uptown blend tapes, and made the world feel like they had a predisposed “in” to hit records from fledgling artists like Total, Shyne, and Carl Thomas. Like the Dancehall-inspired DJ battles that helped cement Hip-Hop, Puffy was able to create a pounding sound that pulled attention away from booming movements such as G-Funk and Bounce. So going backwards is not something that should matter to a visionary like that. But it does—especially by another name, “legacy.”

Legacy is at the heart of why Lebron James returned to Cleveland. It is the driving force to do what has been left undone, and change the conversation that follows us beyond our performance. In Hip-Hop, those undone things can be a bit different than in sports, politics, or other artforms. However, they can be a lot like life, for all of us.

In the last five years, a sober Eminem refocused his career and devoted his profile and resources to fulfilling some of those objectives he set out with. This included making right with Royce Da 5’9″ and promptly beginning a Bad Meets Evil project, despite the fact that it’s plausible that suits at the record label would have preferred something more marketable. Em’ not only righted the course with Nickel (who did his part in the olive branch as well), he renovated Shady Records from a Gangsta Rap, pill-poppin’ house of cards, to a beacon for lyricism.

In 2009, Raekwon took a concept he had teased fans with throughout the 2000s, Only Built 4 Cuban Linx…Pt. II, and he refaced his career. No, it wasn’t released on Aftermath, or executive produced by Busta Rhymes as once planned. The album did not result in mainstream magazine covers or a heavy MTV presence like the mid-’90s. Instead, Rae’ steamrolled a strategy that his peers (AZ, Capone-N-Noreaga, Mobb Deep) have used, even at a grassroots level. Chef Shallah certainly did not invent the Rap sequel album, but he proved that giving fans exactly the album they’d been asking for, in the most polished way possible, restores legacy. More than 20 years deep, Raekwon today is at the top of his veteran peers, and leading the Wu-Tang Clan in marketability, activity, and reach. He did not want to be held against the Purple Tape forever, so he simply changed the conversation. With a strong sequel, Raekwon was able to progress forward, over the misstep second and third albums that did not gain traction.

Cash Money Records signing Juvenile. Snoop Dogg and Suge Knight catching a photo together. Jay Z and Dame Dash seen laughing it up at a birthday party, or State Property supporting Jay in 2015. These are elements tied into legacy. Rather than have Wikipedia entries forever open in controversy, or destinies un-manifested, our stars are more self-aware than seemingly ever before. It is what gets Gucci Mane and Jeezy, two men who literally waged near-fatal wars on each other, to get into the studio, again (EPMD can say the same). Yes, it’s easy publicity, and presumably benefits both artists, but it ties up loose ends.

Loose ends can be the very undone items that alter legacy. Truly, Puff Daddy—in the dynamic role of artist/producer/executive/actor/media personality has a timelessness that is afforded to none of his artists, past or present. If Bad Boy Records and The LOX team for the Yonkers, New York’s trio’s third album, Sheek Louch, Styles P, and Jadakiss can gain much more than Diddy. More than 20 years in, the trio gets the fanfare of a media buffet of returning to their roots. On the contrary, Puffy could presumably net greater revenue signing a new artist, or spearheading the next trend. However, from a legacy standpoint, he finishes what he started in the late ’90s, and makes good on reputation and dedication to the hardcore Hip-Hop audience. Helping Lil’ Kim rebound from a series of career missteps and Faith Evans rebuild her place is a gesture to Puff’s late best friend, and shows a label unity often lost in modern times.

In 1997, No Way Out was a triumphant cry in the face of tragedy. “Victory” was a defiant refusal to be defeated, following Biggie’s murder. Puffy masterfully mourned, celebrated, and took a high road at once—moving from hit-making producer to the face of Rap music in the late 1990s in one fell swoop. No Way Out 2 has different stakes. But as Puffy jockeys for relevance in an age where temporal and financial peers, Jay Z and Dr. Dre, still have close ties to music’s biggest acts in Rihanna, J. Cole, Eminem and Kendrick Lamar, what’s a Diddy to do?

Hip-Hop has never had its equivalent of a “Motown 25.” Even his greatest critics can admit that Sean Combs is one of the culture’s finest showmen. Bringing his gifts, his roster, and his affiliates past and present on the road is the smart money. If anybody can do that—not as a crutch, but as a step to tomorrow, it is the ageless intern-turned-mogul. There are jewels there, and everybody wins when Puff Daddy turns his remix skills to his legacy, before finding the next frontier.

Related: Biggie Smalls, Suge Knight, Puff Daddy, Snoop Dogg In The Same Room In The Early ’90s? Check The Tapes (Video)

On July 13, 1990, the first album to be adorned with a parental advisory sticker hit the shelves, ushering in a new era in the recording industry and re-igniting a heated discussion about censorship, freedom of speech, and morality.

Banned in the U.S.A. was 2 Live Crew’s fourth album, and certainly not the first with the highly sexual content the Miami group had become known for, but it was the first since two of the group members were arrested for obscenity (and later acquitted at trial) in June of 1990. While not as commercially successful as 1989’s double Platinum-selling As Nasty As They Wanna Be, Banned in the U.S.A. and its sticker represented, for many, the manifestation of a Puritanical assault on not just human sexuality, but the sexuality of African Americans.

Formed in 1985 by DJ Mr. Mixx, Fresh Kid Ice, and Amazing Vee, Southern California’s 2 Live Crew took on Brother Marquis and Luke Skyywalker on as members after a fateful move to Miami, where Luke gave them a record deal, becoming the front-man and manager. The 4-man group (Amazing Vee did not go to Miami) became synonymous with “Porn Rap,” a label that has also been assigned to works by Too Short, Necro, Kool Keith, and others. Also popular in the worlds of Ghettotech and Baltimore Club Music, Porn Rap was certainly first and most commonly associated with the Miami Bass scene, of which 2 Live Crew became the face. Sexual explicitness had been around for decades (some early Blues, called “Dirty Blues”, was filthy), but in an era of high media scrutiny and the nationwide concern about Rap music and its content, 2 Live Crew became the social pariah du jour, boosting album sales and making Banned In The U.S.A. a musical middle finger to the mudslingers.

Originally envisioned as a solo vehicle for Luke, the album was eventually released as a group effort, perhaps indicative of a desire to show a united front in the face of such criticism. That criticism, mostly launched atop of a platform of moral superiority and concern for children, had followed the group since its 1986 debut, The 2 Live Crew Is What We Are. Shortly after its release, a man was charged with a felony for selling the obscene material to a minor, and while he was eventually acquitted, tracks like “We Want Some Pussy” and “Throw the D” earned the group lots of attention and even more naysayers. Lyrics like “With my dick in my hands as you fall to your knees / You know what to do, ’cause I won’t say please / Just nibble on my dick like a rat does cheese” and “It’s all in the hips, so go berserk and let that dick do the work” were not any more explicit than, for example, Blues singer Lucille Bogan’s 1935 song “Shave ’em Dry”  (“I got nipples on my titties, big as the end of my thumb / Daddy you say that’s the kind of ’em you want, and you can make ’em come”) or Blowfly’s 1980 track “Rapp Dirty” (“Ride down the road carrying a load / Feeling more sexy than a pregnant toad”), but the group’s presence in the Miami Bass scene gave them a ton`of exposure`and their wild stage antics contributed greatly to their reputation.

On July 18, 2000, Common released “The Light,” and with it came one of Hip-Hop’s greatest love songs. Along with Black Star’s 1998 track “Brown Skin Lady” and The Roots’ breakout 1999 single “You Got Me,” “The Light” represented a focus on mutual respect, vulnerability, and a soulful approach to love that offset much of the imagery and content of mainstream Hip-Hop hits of the era. Lyrically, it was an unadulterated peek into a man’s emotionally exposed heart, while sonically it was a seamless combination of Bobby Caldwell and the Detroit Emeralds that elicits the instantaneous emotional response that only Jay Dee could conjure up. While not the first or last love song of Common’s career, “The Light” is mentioned in the same breath as hits like Method Man & Mary J. Blige’s “I’ll Be There for You/You’re All I Need To Get By” and “You Got Me” as indisputably some the greatest love songs in a genre often overlooked by mainstream society as a source of positivity, nourishment and, well, light. With the song, Common managed to share what Heads already knew, that Hip-Hop, at its foundation, is about nothing else if not love and unity.

The Chicago MC had already established himself as a masterful lyricist with three albums under his belt, but he unleashed something transcendent on this day, 15 years ago. As the lead single from his touchstone album Like Water for Chocolate, the song is a Jay Dee (a/k/a J Dilla)-produced, Grammy-nominated masterpiece in the form a poetically delivered love letter from one Soulquarian to another, but the song also became our love song to one another, one that resonated as powerfully as a musical backdrop to our pillow talk as it did on the street corners of cities across the country (and from “ghetto to coffee shop,” too). And, while Common has gone on to weave mainstream success into the tapestry of his incredible career, and despite winning an Oscar for another song entirely, “The Light” remains the song, for many.

A lyrical theme prevalent throughout the song is one that has long been articulated throughout history, that of the woman being the physical embodiment of nature, the divine, and the sacred. Common’s subject is one with the cosmos (“if heaven had a height, you would be that tall”), his surroundings (“For in these cold Chi night’s moon, you my light”), and the ultimate source of “the light” (“Granted we known each other for some time / It don’t take a whole day to recognize sunshine”).

Like Water for Chocolate could not have been a better home for “The Light.” In many ways, the album signaled Common’s shift as an underground MC with strictly boom-bap roots to a more experimental, soulfully driven artist. When he released his 1992 debut, Can I Borrow a Dollar?, he was still Common Sense, the 19-year-old lyricist featured in The Source‘s legendary “Unsigned Hype” column in 1991. Back then, he had a “distinct, squeaky but likable voice and impressive rhyme skills,” and looking back on the album, it is remarkable to see the stages of development that bring us to the Common of today. Much of the album’s artwork depicted Com Sense drinking 40-ounces of malt liquor and he rhymes frequently about drug use and sundry shenanigans. 1994’s aptly-titled Resurrection was the first sign of the bridge to what many call “conscious” Hip-Hop; No I.D.’s jazzy approach to beat making combined with the spoken-word nature of “Pop’s Rap” (the first of many tracks to feature Com’s father) and conceptually approached tracks like “I Used to Love H.E.R.” and “Chapter 13 (Rich Man Vs. Poor Man)” collided to form a more complete snapshot of Common Sense, the artist.

1997’s One Day It’ll All Make Sense was the last album he and No I.D. would work on until 2011’s The Dreamer/The Believer, and it was the first to feature Common, the father. The most soul-searching work of his first three LPs, the album was anchored by songs with titles like “Introspection,” “Retrospect for Life,” “G.O.D. (Gaining One’s Definition)” and “Reminding Me (Of Sef).” It was also a project on which the musical relationships with artists like Q-Tip, The Roots, and Erykah Badu would begin to forge and become stronger, and those musical relationships created the fertile crescent out of which the Soulquarians and “The Light” would grow. On “All Night Long,” Badu and Common share a duet produced by the Roots and although not a love song, the energies vibrating between the two manifested in this song are the same vibrations we have to thank for “The Light.”

Along with The Roots’ Things Fall Apart (1999), D’Angelo’s Voodoo (2000), and Badu’s Mama’s Gun (2000), Like Water for Chocolate was emblematic of the Soulquarian spin on Hip-Hop (despite being the only of the four not to go platinum), which appeared most prominently in the late ’90s and early aughts. Similar to the Native Tongues in concept (and roster), the Soulquarians grew out of a shared sensibility, both musically and philosophically, between artists like Questlove, J Dilla, and the Roots’ James Poyser. Eventually expanding to include Mos Def, Talib Kweli, Q-Tip, Badu, and others, the Soulquarians became the perfect fit for Common’s seemingly ever-growing ideals about self-expression. On March 28, 2000, Like Water for Chocolate was released, and Common achieved his greatest commercial success of his then eight-year career.

The album’s cover artwork, featuring a 1956 photograph of a Black woman in Alabama drinking from a “Coloreds Only” fountain, echoed the sentiment voiced in the cover artwork for Things Fall Apart,  making it a visually striking album whose very cover captured the consciousness with which his music had come to be imbued. The album’s title, though inspired by a 1989 novel of the same name, served as a double entendre of sorts, one that perfectly expressed the photograph. Featuring Mos Def, MC Lyte, Bilal, Jill Scott, Femi Kuti, Slum Village, Cee-Lo, and others, Like Water for Chocolate is no doubt an amalgamation of the best possible kind; tracks like “Heat,” “The Questions,” “A Film Called (Pimp),” and “Thelonius” are straight-up Hip-Hop whereas “Time Travelin’ (A Tribute to Fela),” “Funky for You,” and “Nag Champa (Afrodisiac for the World)” are straight-up Hip-Hop mixed with a little something ethereal, other-worldly, and transcendent. It was that combination of qualities out of which “The Light” was born.

From a lyrical perspective, the song was raw (“Some niggas recognize the light but they can’t handle the glare”), unabashedly real (“I never call you my bitch or even my boo / There’s so much in a name and so much more in you”), and a road map to an emotional destination (“So I pray everyday more than anything, friends we’ll stay as we begin to lay this foundation for a family – love ain’t simple”). Common’s words allowed listeners to follow his own path to love, including the missteps along the way. “I know your heart is weathered by what studs did to you / I ain’t gon’ assault em cause I probably did it too,” he admits, reminding us that the ultimate destination is not always reached without mistakes. In speaking to his “queen,” he addresses union in a powerful way, acknowledging that a strong bond is one between partners (“I know the sex ain’t gon’ keep you, but as my equal is how I must treat you”). It’s a theme echoed by the song’s video, in which images of lush plants are interposed with images of a bare-skinned Badu, in what may be interpreted as a reference to Eve in the Garden of Eden. Images of butterflies, flowers, and fruit are spliced into the visuals to reinforce the connection between Woman and Nature. The ankh, an ancient Egyptian symbol (and a frequent accessory of Badu and others) also features prominently, due to its representing the concept of eternal life, which can only be reached with man and woman (the symbol of the ankh itself is the merging of the male and female symbols into one figure).

Common has since navigated a career from the backstreets of the Southside to the annals of Oscar history. From a “squeaky” 19-year-old to the voice behind an Academy-Award winning soundtrack, Common balances the boom-bap with the mainstream without selling either side short. With “The Light,” a love song was created that reverberated beyond Hip-Hop, one that has been mentioned in countless lists of the best love songs ever.

Related: A Love Jones: Still Getting By With Method Man & Mary J Blige 20 Years Later (Food For Thought)

DJ Premier and Dr. Dre are widely considered to be two of Hip-Hip’s greatest producers of all-time. While the two have worked on the same projects occasionally over the last two decades, and maintained a friendship along the way, they had not had released a full collaboration, until now. The arrival of Dr. Dre’s Compton: The Soundtrack album, his first since 1999’s 2001 and said to be his last solo project, brought a song titled “Animals,” which featured Dre and Anderson .Paak on the vocals, and DJ Premier manning the track, behind the boards. The song is vintage Boom Bap Preemo production and Dre’s bombastic flow. To call the song historic would be an understatement. Instead, it is the answer to twenty years of “what if’s,” dating all the way back to a mythical Rakim project.

Last month, DJ Premier posted an instagram photo of himself and Dr. Dre in the studio together. The image created a frenzy of excitement and curiosity. What were the two cooking up together and how did this all happen? We spoke with Premier and, over an extended conversation, he detailed not only the story behind the song, but his extensive history with Dre from 1985 to the present, their similar approach in the studio, his top five producers of all-time, what song of Dre’s he would remix and vice versa, and much more. This is an incredible Hip-Hop history lesson from one of Hip-Hop’s most important figures about one of his few true peers.

PUTTIN' IN WORK…#premierwuzhere

A photo posted by @djpremier on Jul 18, 2015 at 8:51pm PDT

Ambrosia For Heads: Last month, you sent out a photo that caused quite an explosion. Can you tell the story of how this collaboration (“Animals”) came to be and what the process was like?

DJ Premier: What happened was, I went to do a Boiler Room [set]. I had done one with PRhyme last year, when we were coming out with the album, last year, when it dropped [on] December 9. Then we had done one in Moscow because they’re also based out there, where I worked with a Russian producer. You know I don’t work with any producers, but I said I’d do it, just to do something creative. So we ended up getting together with a guy named BNB Spacekid—he’s like the “Dre” or “Premier” of Russia. We got together, it was to collaborate with him pulling Russian samples and me finding Russian samples that I would like, and make a beat with him. At the time, MF DOOM was supposed to do [the song] with us. When it came down to us finally agreeing, signing the paperwork and all that stuff, DOOM fell sick and had to have surgery; he wasn’t allowed to fly. We thought that’d cancel the whole trip, but [BMB Spacekid’s camp was] like, “Since we can’t get DOOM, do you mind if we get a singer to fill in instead?” I said, who?, and they said, “Anderson .Paak.” I’m like, “Well, who is that?” They were like, “He’s this new up-and-coming singer from the West Coast. He’s dope, I can send you some YouTube footage links to see if you like him.” He sent me a song called “Suede.” When I saw that, and I saw that Knxledge was doing the beat—and he’s down with Stones Throw [Records], and I’m a big Stones Throw fan, I was like, “Okay, I’ll still go to Russia and do it.”

Once I went out there and met Anderson in person, we kicked it, and vibed and everything was cool. The next thing you know, we end up layin’ two tracks. We laid the first one, which ended up going to Dre—it wasn’t meant for Dre, it was just the first track we did. It was real funky boom-bap style like I do. Then we did a real Trap, Down South-style track [called “Til’ It’s Done”], and BNB was really [liking it].

We come home, back to New York, and the Freddie Gray [murder] happens in Baltimore. I still have that other beat on deck ’cause BNB was like, “Yo, do whatever you want with it, if you ever want to put it out.” It didn’t have vocals to it. Anderson saw the Freddie Gray thing happened in Baltimore, and he called me, [saying], “Yo, I’m really angry with this whole Baltimore thing that’s going on. I just wrote a song to that other beat. I’m gonna send it to you. Let’s see what the energy is; maybe we can just throw it out in the streets to coincide with what’s going on as an anti-killing and police [brutality message].” As soon as I heard it, it was called “F.S.U. (Fuck Shit Up).” It was basically talking about how [police] treat us like animals, and the only time they turn the cameras on is when we’re fucking shit up. I said, “Yeah, this is dope! I’m down to leak it out.” He said, “Well, I got a meeting with Dre over some other stuff,” ’cause Dre had heard some of his other demos and liked [the music]. When he went to meet up with him, his manager mentioned some other stuff about the song I did, but Anderson didn’t really want to play it for Dre, ’cause he wasn’t there to play that for him. The manager brought it up. [Dr. Dre wanted to hear it, and Anderson asked for my approval]. I was cool with it; I was already doing some stuff with Dre on the side for another project that’s totally irrelevant to [Compton]. So then Dre was like, “Yo, I wanna rap on that!” So I’m like, “Shit, I’m not gonna say ‘no.'” But then he was like, “I wanna change the name to ‘Animals’ from ‘Fuck Shit Up.'” We changed the name. Dre said, “I want you to come out and add a few flavors to it and mix it down with me.” I said, “Alright, I gotta come out there anyway to give Christina Aguilera some new music. So it’s nothing for me to come out and stay a little longer.” So I came out to the studio. We worked. We made some change-up’s and things; me and him did some vocals at the end and some things. I wanted to scratch on it. I went to his house a couple days later and did some work at his house in Calabasas. We went to the studio, closed it out and mixed it down. He said it was gonna be on the [Straight Outta Compton] soundtrack; he played me the album, and it’s crazy. It’s totally just straight raw, hard Dre stuff. It’s what we been waitin’ for.

Ambrosia For Heads: What is it like producing someone who, himself, has production expertise? Does it change your approach with making the record?

DJ Premier: Nah. Our process is very much the same. That’s what was a trip: me and him are so similar in how we do things. Me and him talked about it. I did his Beats radio show [The Pharmacy] which is gonna air the week [Compton] comes out. He did an episode dedicated to my whole career, which is really flattering. It was an honor to do that.

We were just laughing about everybody’s process in the studio and how he and I are just so meticulous. And, he didn’t have a problem with me saying I didn’t like certain things. “Can we put it here, can we move it there?” It wasn’t a hog-situation. He’s very spot on, like I am in the lab. Everything was just that natural. That was the beauty of the whole thing.

Ambrosia For Heads: You and Dre are both DJs first. What role did that play in your evolution to becoming producers?

DJ Premier: It plays a major role, because I’m always a DJ first—that’s my #1 love. Producing is cool, but never over DJ’ing for me. I like breaking new records and artists, and letting people know, “This is what should be hot” instead of pushing records that everybody’s playing and dick-riding. I’ve never been that way. I’ve always played records that I thought were dope—and as a DJ, that’s how I got on.

Ambrosia For Heads: You mentioned that you guys have some other projects together. People may not realize, but over the years, you guys have been connected on many things. You both worked on Nas’ It Was Written back in ’96 and The Lady Of Rage’s Necessary Roughness album. What have you learned about Dre’s process to making music through those projects?

DJ Premier: Like I said, it was very similar. I was at sessions with Dre when he was doing [Snoop Dogg’s] Doggystyle. I was in the studio when they was still finishing that up, so I got to witness how they do things. I was also around in the time when The Chronic just came out, ’cause that was around the time [Death Row Records] reached out to me to work with [The Lady Of Rage]. I was around Suge [Knight] and all the crazy situations. I was around that. I was in those sessions. I was welcome, so it was all good. As far as the level that he’s out now, to see how he does it, his judgement is very similar to mine. That’s what I was so excited to see—the similarities of the meticulousness about everything being right. That’s why he said “Detox is over.” It’s not up to the standards of what it should be, so he doesn’t want to release it. I’m the same way: there’s certain records that weren’t good enough; I don’t want to put them out. We’re good judges just because I think we have DJ ears. The DJ ear is the best ear ever because it’s our duty to dictate, transcend, and be taste-makers. We’ll be able to tell you that “this is proper and this is what you need to pay attention to.”

I told Dre, “Yo, I saw you in 1985 at my school, with the [World Class] Wreckin’ Cru. You were cutting up ‘Al Naafiysh (The Soul)‘ by Hashim.” He said, “Wow, it’s crazy you said that; I put that in [Straight Outta Compton].” That’s dope. That’s a classic Hip-Hop record from New York, number one. Number two: to see him do that, and for him to put that in that movie, and for him to know that that was such an important part of his career taking off, that lets me know we’re on the same page, even down to that. That’s my memory of first ever seeing Dr. Dre do anything in person.

Ambrosia For Heads: What effect did those early Straight Outta Compton records have on you, as a DJ, when you first heard them back in the day?

DJ Premier: A major effect. For one, New York was the only guide you had to learn about Hip-Hop, including for me, because I was in Texas at the time. I didn’t come to New York ’til 1987, and N.W.A. was already big in Texas. Eazy-E was the first thing we heard. “Boyz-N-The Hood.” We were already bumping that; New York wasn’t really getting a lot of West Coast music then. And, if they were getting it, they weren’t really acknowledging it because everybody turned to New York as a guide. Ice Cube said that last night at the Q&A [for Straight Outta Compton]. He said “all of us were on the dick of KRS-One and Chuck D. Even in the movie, the group they had to launch Eazy’s label was from New York—they were called H.B.O.—before [Ice] Cube and N.W.A. Even for [Ruthless Records] to jump off, they were relying on New York artists to set the whole tone. [At that time], if it wasn’t from New York, it wasn’t [considered] official.

Ambrosia For Heads: Did any of Dre’s productions ever motivate you or make you more competitive?

DJ Premier: All the time. Mainly mix-downs and arrangement. That’s what I studied. I used Dre as a guide on how to make albums way before I even knew how to do it, as far as arrangement and the whole sonic sound of a mix. EPMD was another one [I studied]. I used to read the credits: “Produced by Erick and Parish for EPMD Productions.” I said, “Damn, I’d love to have something like that!” That’s why it always said “Produced by DJ Premier for Works Of Mart.” I wanted to have that same type of impact with anything I did.

[Dr. Dre] said the same thing. He said, “What bugs me out is you do everything: the production, the instruments, the mixing, your name’s all over. That is so amazing.” So, we’re both paying attention to each other for what we do.

Ambrosia For Heads: If you had to name your Top 5 producers, who would they be?

DJ Premier: Top 5, not in order: I would definitely say Dre. I would say Rick Rubin, Larry Smith, Mantronix, and Marley Marl. My number one would be Marley Marl.

Ambrosia For Heads: If you could remix one of Dre’s productions, what would it be?

DJ Premier: Whew! Probably “Lil’ Ghetto Boy”—that was my shit! Actually, I don’t want to remix it; I love it as it is. So it wouldn’t be “Lil’ Ghetto Boy.” It’d have to be, maybe “Rat-Tat-Tat-Tat”—whew! Heavy.

Ambrosia For Heads: What would you do to that one?

DJ Premier: Just twist it a whole different way. I mean, the way he did it with no snare…it was just fucking insane, man. I know the sample and everything that [he] used, but his approach to it and the way RBX and everybody was on it, it was just so [dope]. That’s just one of my favorite Chronic songs.

Ambrosia For Heads: And if Dr. Dre could remix one of your productions, what would it be?

DJ Premier: Shit. I don’t even know. [Chuckles] I’d let him take his pick on that one. I know he said he loved [Gang Starr’s] “Mass Appeal.” He said he loved that record and the creativity of it when it came out. He said it was such a traditional Gang Starr record, which was our mission was in the first place. For him to say that record affected him that way, that’s a beautiful thing.

Ambrosia For Heads: The one time I met Dr. Dre, I mentioned you. He said, “Oh word? Premier is mad motivated.” What would your description of him be?

DJ Premier: He’s a mad genius, man. Everybody always says, “He’s a genius!” They always say that about everybody in our line of work that’s on a certain level. But he is a genius. Ice Cube said it yesterday, “Yo, you know you’re special when you leave Ruthless [Records], and you leave Death Row, [and still succeed].” Now he’s at Aftermath [Entertainment] with his sanity and peace of mind, and he can rock and make his money. I don’t care what level of the playing field you’re on, you don’t let go of greatness. He’s definitely in the genius category, tenfold.

Ambrosia For Heads: What else can we look forward to from you in the near future?

Be on the look out for MC Eiht, Compton’s Most Wanted, we’re dropping a project together called Which Way Iz West. We [are finishing] that; you’ll be hearing that. And then the NYG’z, part of the Gang Starr Foundation, they’re dropping their album called Hustler’s Union Local NYG. It’s an all Premier-produced album. We recorded it a couple of years ago. It was supposed to come out, but we went and updated it. It’s a raw New York album. You will be hearing that. It’s some of my best work. G-Dep’s on it, right before he turned himself in for the murder. We have some of the [last] music from Dep. It’s crazy. I’m on Game’s new album, The Documentary 2, and actually [the song I produced] is called “The Documentary 2.” And it’s hard, raw.

Related: Stream More Than 6 Hours Of DJ Premier’s Mid-’90s Radio Show (Mix)

In the late 1980s and early 1990s, Coolio seemed to be living in the shadows. A product of Southern California, the MC born Artis Leon Ivey, Jr. made some of his first noise alongside WC, DJ Crazy Toones and the collective known as WC & The Maad Circle.

As the group recorded their sophomore album, 1995’s Curb Servin’, Coolio stepped out of Dub’s perceived shadow and inked a solo deal with Tommy Boy Records. There, 1994’s debut It Takes A Thief surprised anybody and everybody. With limited support, and no ties to established West Coast mainstream guard (Death Row, Ruthless), Coolio made a platinum album. Huge on sampling, and utilizing scaled back PG-13 lyrics in the “Ain’t No Fun” era, Coolio became the other SoCal MC with elaborate braids, memorable wardrobe, lowriders in his video, and a true showmanship for the MTV camera. “Fantastic Voyage” literally brought Lakeside back to the charts with it, as Coolio’s imagery of moving from the trunk to the sunshine seemingly symbolized his career surge. A Top 10 album, Coolio suddenly joined Naughty By Nature as a flagship label act, and one of Hip-Hop’s crossover sensations. Even for Snoop (who shouted out Coolio on “Doggy Dogg World”), the rapper was not perceived as a gimmick, but as a low-profile MC with dues paid.

For his 1995 follow-up, Coolio aimed to make a statement. It Takes A Thief reached the mainstream as a street-certified party album. Gangsta’s Paradise aimed for substance. Moreover, as was popular at the time, Coolio attached his product to a soundtrack. The Michelle Pfeiffer-starring Dangerous Minds film was among a growing movie trend highlighting difficult classrooms, and teachers shutting down the nonsense.

The resulting song used Coolio’s skill-set. On August 8, 1995, Coolio released “Gangsta’s Paradise” (months before the album of the same name would follow). The MC was able to capture a grim reality, without being particularly graphic or profane. Instead, teaming with South Central Cartel’s L.V., Coolio made a grandiose record about an attitude that people either related to, or wanted to better understand.

In a Rolling Stone retrospective, Coolio, L.V., and producer Doug Rasheed recall the Grammy Award-winning hit 20 years later. L.V. reveals that the song was presented to South Central Cartel, whose member Prodeje suggested Coolio. Upon hearing the beat, Coolio freestyled the famed opening bars to the song. “You know, I like to believe that it was divine intervention. ‘Gangsta’s Paradise’ wanted to be born; it wanted to come to life, and it chose me as the vessel,” he explains today. It is added that Tommy Boy’s unnamed A&R at the time, thought it would be “a good album cut.” The label brass would take the finished song and initially try to license it to Bad Boys soundtrack. After that offer was bested, the team sold the film rights track to Disney/MCA Records for a reported $100,000. Additionally, Coolio’s original lyrics were too harsh (including allusions to sodomy), holding back Stevie Wonder from clearing the “Pastime Paradise” sample. Coolio made the requested changes, before Antoine Fuqua (Training Day, Southpaw) shot the music video (which Michelle Pfeiffer starred in, 12 years after Scarface).

“Gangsta’s Paradise” represents a pinnacle in Coolio’s career. The MC would return for WC & The Maad Circle’s sophomore album that same year. He would grab a Grammy, a multi-platinum album of the same name (and anchor a multi-platinum soundtrack). 1997’s My Soul would keep Coolio in the mainstream conversation, and charts-and-plaques pageantry. However, the early collaborator to E-40, Ras Kass and J-Ro would fade from the spotlight by the end of the 1990s. Hardly a one-hit wonder, Coolio seemingly is emblematic of a transitional time in Hip-Hop. Like 50 Cent or Eminem, he is a testament to patience and persistence. Like MC Hammer, Sir Mix-A-Lot, or Young MC, he may have been too popular for his own endurance later on. However, the numbers and history prove that Coolio is not a one-hit wonder. His greatest contribution, from a national scale, remains relevant in its sound and messaging 20 years later.

Read: Rolling Stone‘s Oral History of “Gangstas Paradise” by Coolio & L.V.

 Related: WC Explains Why He Avoided The Westside Connection & Cypress Hill Beef (Video)

Only now, in 2015, is N.W.A. a group that can test the waters of the digital era. It’s been nearly 25 years since the group existed, and more than that since it had its famous five member lineup including Ice Cube. In 1988, there were no blogs, no streams, no social media, period. Although they have not released any new music as a group, the four living members of that aforementioned lineup can sit before an intrigued Kendrick Lamar for an interview conversation available globally. The group is getting recognition by the elite publications, who now see Ice Cube as a Hollywood superstar off the mic, and Dr. Dre as an electronics mogul. “The World’s Most Dangerous Group” and their Straight Outta Compton biopic is suddenly mainstream, a perceived irony to their legacy as rebellious music revolutionaries.

In their brief but everlastingly impactful run between 1987 and 1991, N.W.A. was getting love. However, instead of web sites, magazines were critical vessels for showing the group of Eazy-E, Ice Cube, MC Ren, Dr. Dre, and DJ Yella to the world. Behind the explosive, often-abrasive lyrics and intricate beats, who were these men from Compton? Their fashion, from black caps to loc’s to black jeans and white sneakers influenced the world. They’re menacing scowls and self-assurance became emblematic of late 1980s Rap cool. While the mainstream was unclear how to handle Niggaz Wit’ Attitudes and their Ruthless Records releases, small publications frequently published photos, advertisements, interviews, and other information regarding the Compton sensations.

An adolescent named Stephan was paying attention. Living in Geneva, Switzerland, he was a Hip-Hop obsessed youth gravitating towards the flare, the fashion, and the f-bombs of N.W.A. Starting then, he began collecting magazines, ads, and even photographing a Niggaz4Life advertisement on Hollywood’s Sunset Boulevard during a trip to the United States with his half-American father. Recently, in the purist/Heads community, the artist known as The Genevan Heathen (a grown-up Stephan) took the scene by storm with a comprehensive introduction to a 10-volume G-Funk mix alongside Arnaud D. The music was a companion to his years and years of curation.

Today, in the digital world, there are limited photos available on most search engine queries of N.W.A. The great photos of Janette Beckman and Glen E. Friedman are there, but those posed and candid moments between Dre, Lorenzo, Yella Boy, Cube, and E are rare and hard to come by. Armleder’s NWA Scans section of his Rap Scans Tumblr account changes that. There, among the 100+ N.W.A.-related scans, Heads can see a rarity of the six-man lineup of N.W.A. including Arabian Prince, who was notably omitted from the film. Fans can see Eazy-E behind the turntables, Dr. Dre leaning on his 1989 Corvette convertible, Cube’s cruel post-N.W.A. stage prop, and Dr. Dre’s fact sheet/interview questionnaire.

Here are some of the offerings, along with some quotes from Stephan Armleder:

On How The Rap Scans Tumblr Account Began: “I stumbled upon boxes of magazines while helping my mom clean the basement at her place, mostly Hip-Hop and skateboarding mags from the late ’80s and early ’90s acquired during summer trips to the US with my dad,” father half US.

On Why Some Of These Rare Scans And Their Contents Are Fun And Different: “While I still vividly remembered the issues of The Source, Rap Pages, and Rap Sheet, I had totally forgotten about Rap Masters, Yo! Magazine, Word Up and such…their content blew me away – the over the top graphic design, the numerous ‘full color pin ups,’ the absurd contests, the flashy colors, the giant posters – they almost feel like teenage magazines (hell, they probably are), somewhat of a naive and fun approach, as opposed to the serious tone of The Source and similar publications. They provide for an amazing ’80s and ’90s Hip-Hop time capsule, showcasing the diversity of that era, the incredible fashion, the creativity, and the effervescence and authenticity of a culture in its early stages of development.”

On Getting Recognition And What Rap Scans Mean To Stephan: “I started scanning images I felt were representative of the era and different from the old school Rap pics you usually find online and uploading them on my Tumblr. I guess it caught the attention of some Rap fans out there and it started getting a healthy number of re-blogs and all of that. Along the way, super dope taste-makers like UpNorthTrips started showing love and I think that largely helped the site gain traction. After going through all the magazines in the boxes, I started trying to complete the collection via eBay, which I’m still doing to this day. There’s about 700 vintage Rap scans on my website now and this little curation gig has become a very dope hobby and somewhat of a relaxing ritual.”

Why Now Is Especially Important: “Being a huge fan of N.W.A. and Ruthless Records, I already had multiple N.W.A.-related scans on the site, and with [Straight Outta Compton] coming I thought it’d be nice to create a section specially dedicated to them – So I tagged all the existing ones and added about 50 in the course of the last week to reach a total of 100.”

Stephan’s Own Relationship With Hip-Hop: “I got into Rap music at 10 years old when I heard ‘It’s Tricky’ by Run-DMC. I instantly became obsessed, spending nights reading liner notes and trying to decipher magazines (I didn’t speak English then), memorizing everything I could memorize and geeking over everything Hip-Hop-related. Truth be told, there was a general fascination for American culture for us European kids of the pre-Internet era – movies came out a year before in the US, and sometimes didn’t even make it across the ocean, sports came with amazing merchandising and out-of-this world personalities, and music felt so ahead of its time – and for each of these the culture of marketing and branding and image was already very prevalent and efficient. All of this was just very sexy, exciting, and impressive – with the extra mystique of being hard to access. Aside from being musically and aesthetically revolutionary and just plain amazing, Hip-Hop embodied that cool magic of American culture and appeared rebellious and dangerous – how could you resist it?”

His DJ Career And Current G-Funk Anthology Project: “The G-Funk Anthology is a project I’m doing with Arnaud D which is, as its name indicates, an anthology of the Hip-Hop sub-genre known as G-Funk. 10 volumes are dropping over the course of a year, each time with a different DJ on mixing duties, while Arnaud and I pick the songs. The first three volumes are out already, I’m super happy with the result so far. The idea is simply to offer a massive G-Funk archive consisting of classics, remixes and B-sides, unreleased joints, and obscure gems. We also pay very close attention to the DJs we pick – all super skilled with a true love for G-Funk.”

How The G-Funk Volumes Fit Into Greater Picture: “They’re a continuation of the thematic mixtapes I’ve been doing…I did a Sex Rap joint with DJ Raze, an Above The Law tribute mix with Jérôme “Tacteel” Echenoz, and a bunch of non-Rap stuff like a tape with music from John Hughes movies and a Rocky IV Workout Mix with Mattfoley.”

G-Funk Renaissance?: “I don’t think there will be a resurgence of G-Funk, per se. However I believe elements of G-Funk will keep influencing current Hip-Hop production. There’s no question it left a mark that’s still being felt – whether it’s the melodic aspect or the heavy use of synths. You’ll always hear a bit of G-Funk here and there, not only in Hip-Hop, I’ve heard many House tracks with G-Funk whistles or basslines these last few years for example. It makes sense if you consider a lot of the kids at the forefront of making music at the moment grew up in the ’90s. In parallel, there will continue to be a fan base for original ’90s G-Funk like there has been since the inception of the genre – it got a second life with the emergence of the Internet and the sudden access to all kinds of hard to find regional releases it provided. There’s a niche of diggers, notably in Eastern Europe and Japan, who are going super hard on this. I feel these fans will also continue supporting G-Funk veterans who choose to stick to that classic sound.”

Thoughts on Straight Outta Compton: “I haven’t seen the N.W.A. movie yet, it comes out September 9 in Geneva.”

Visit Stephan Armleder’s parent site, Genevan Heathen. Check out his mixes, production, and audio on his Soundcloud page.

Related: Kendrick Lamar Interviews N.W.A. & Asks All The Right Questions (Video)

“DON’T CALL IT A COMEBACK!! I’VE BEEN HERE FOR YEARS!!!”

Despite his protest in the opening lines of the title song to Mama Said Knock You Out, a triumphant return is exactly what that album was for LL Cool J when it was released 25 years ago on August 27, 1990. For many, LL had burst onto the scene nearly five years prior, with a show-stopping cameo in 1985’s Krush Groove. Speaking literally one word in the scene (“BOX!“), the tall, lanky 17-year old launched into a dynamic performance of his soon to be hit song “I Can’t Live Without My Radio” that set into motion one of the most successful and enduring careers that Rap has ever seen, but by the late ’80s, the eventual self-proclaimed G.O.A.T. (Greatest Of All-Time) had lost his way.

One month after the Krush Groove cameo, LL’s debut album Radio was released to critical acclaim, described by the Village Voice as “the most engaging and original Rap album of the year,” and selling over a million copies. James Todd Smith’s authentic B-boy swagger cemented the new direction in which fellow Queen’s peers, Run-DMC, had taken Hip-Hop two years prior, shedding the furs and feathers of acts like Grandmaster Flash & The Furious Five for what everyday youth were actually wearing in the streets–Kangols, jeans and, in LL’s case, Pumas. Cool J also became the franchise artist for the up-and-coming fledgling record label called Def Jam.

Def Jam co-founder, Rick Rubin, teamed with LL on his first album to hone a new sound for Hip-Hop; one that stripped away the melody and synths that drove the music by predecessors like Whodini and The Fat Boys, in favor of thumping 808 drums, aggressive DJ cuts and scratches, and little else. LL, with his irrepressible confidence and vocal fury, was the perfect complement to Rubin’s sonic landscape. The new sound and LL’s good looks and swagger garnered the respect of the fellas and earned his name (Ladies Love Cool James) with the ladies, making him the new King of Hip-Hop. Though Rubin would not produce on LL’s follow up album, Bad, the album maintained the same aural template Rubin set on Radio, added in the influences of fresh talent like DJ Pooh and Bobcat, and catapulted LL to the stratosphere with sales of more than 3 million copies.

While Radio solidified the image that LL portrayed in Krush Groove–a cocky and ferocious MC who did not take no for an answer–Bad fortified the first portion of his name, by building on his reputation as a ladies man. “I Need Love,” Rap’s first mainstream ballad, opened up an entirely new fan base for Cool J, reaching #1 on the Billboard Hot R&B/Hip-Hop Songs chart and achieving success internationally. The song and album made LL Hip-Hop’s first solo worldwide superstar. At the age of 19, he had reached Rap’s pinnacle, with seemingly no limits on his potential. However, unbeknownst to him, his career was about to take a turn that would alienate his base.

1988 was a relatively quiet year for LL. He did not release an album, but the year did bring a reunion with Rick Rubin on the song “Going Back To Cali,” which was initially released on the soundtrack for Less Than Zero. Although the song fared decently, commercially, it was a radical departure from much of Cool J’s previous work and was received with mixed reviews. The song was neither a ballad nor one of LL’s pumped up fight anthems, and it featured a slow and lazy flow that took some longtime fans aback. In many ways, it was the perfect metaphor for an identity crisis the vaunted MC likely was experiencing, as he wavered between being the baddest MC on the planet and the tender sex symbol that was born on “I Need Love.” That sonic ambivalence likely was heightened by the departures of producers Rick Rubin and Bobcat from his camp. While neither parted for reasons related to LL, it did not change the fact that the two were among the most important in shaping his sound to date, and their absence left a void.

Subsequently, LL’s next album in 1989 was a head-scratcher for many Rap purists, at the time. The lead single, “I’m That Type of Guy,” retained the slow flow of “Going Back to Cali,” and was widely-viewed as a misstep. In many ways, the song was the antithesis of what had endeared LL to both men and women in the past. With its themes of putting men down for their inadequacies relative to himself and explicit statements like “I’m doing your girlfriend,” it was a direct middle finger to the fellas. And, by positioning women as nothing more than sexual conquests, it was a far cry from the romantic sentiments conveyed in “I Need Love.” The video built upon the song’s themes, showing LL alternately as a cat burglar, sneaking in to get your girl (and several others), and perched on a symbolic throne in a silk robe smoking a cigar with a cocksure and all-knowing grin painted on his face. He had crossed the line between cocky and arrogant, and was not looking back. While the song was one of LL’s most commercially successful singles, it’s telling that it was not included on his greatest hits compilation, years later.

So, for many, by the time 1990 rolled around, it seemed LL’s career was on the decline, if not over. Many of his peers from the early 80s like Run-DMC, The Fat Boys and Whodini, were in the sunsets of their careers, and they were being supplanted by new MCs with new styles, like Eric B. & Rakim, EPMD and N.W.A. For LL, who had had a six year stint since the 1984 release of his single “I Need A Beat,” he’d had a phenomenal run and one of the longest in Hip-Hop to date, at the time. However, just like that 17-year old kid depicted in Krush Groove, LL was not one to give up easily. Keenly aware of the new sounds that were taking over Hip-Hop, Uncle L teamed up with one of the driving forces behind the new sonic landscape. Marley Marl was already a revered DJ in the New York Hip-Hop radio scene, and he was actively involved in the careers of Hip-Hop’s hottest acts at the time, including Big Daddy Kane, Masta Ace, Kool G Rap, Biz Markie, MC Lyte, MC Shan and Heavy D & The Boyz. Marley was a superstar in his own right, and his pairing with LL was one of equals.

It was clear from early singles like “Jingling Baby (Remixed and Still Jingling),” “To Da Break of Dawn” and “The Boomin’ System,” that LL had a new sound. Gone were the sparse tracks, in favor of sample-based songs colored with soul and melody, often rooted in the sounds of James Brown that were dominating Hip-Hop at the time. In 1991, LL spoke to Rolling Stone about Marley’s involvement, saying “”Marley was definitely a great acquisition, a great move,’and ‘Jingling Baby’ is absolutely what turned things around.'” Marley, in turn, recently told Vanity Fair the union was accidental and almost didn’t happen. “Me and LL had . . . we had, like, semi-beef from the MC Shan era. So at first we weren’t really getting along. I was down with the Juice Crew, and he was down with the Def Jam crew, so it was almost like a friendly rivalry going on,” said the veteran producer. While LL was at WBLS, Marley’s radio station, promoting Walk Like a Panther, Marley mentioned how much he liked “Jingling Baby” and suggested that he do a remix. “Next thing you know, we started making other tracks…All of a sudden, we’re, like, eight tracks in, and I didn’t even have a contract to do an album with him. We were just grooving,” Marley said to Vanity Fair.

LL’s swagger remained in tact on Mama Said Knock You Out, but it had evolved from the unbridled cockiness of a teenager to the self-assured confidence of a grown man. His ferociousness had returned, as well, particularly on “To Da Break of Dawn,” widely-considered one of the greatest diss tracks of all-time, as he simultaneously dismantled both Kool Moe Dee and Ice-T, with lyrics like “Give me a lighter…Woof! Now you’re cut loose from that jheri curl juice” about the latter’s trademark perm. LL also sported a new more mature flow. It was more rhythmic than his caustic cadence of the past, and he delivered it with a deeper, more mature voice. It refined the tonal quality he had begun to explore on “Going Back to Cali” and “I’m That Type of Guy,” but replaced the smug undertones with the charisma that had led to his ascent in the beginning. As dynamic and appealing as those early singles were, however, there was nothing that signaled LL’s return like the title track, “Mama Said Knock You Out.”

With his thunderous opening, LL said what many had been thinking about him falling off but established it was not the case, at least in his mind, and, years before he would officially coin the term and proclaim himself the G.O.A.T., he declared himself to be peerless. “Don’t ever compare me to the rest that’ll all get sliced and diced, competition’s payin’ the price,” he bellowed on the song that was part self-affirmation and part war cry. The fury embodied in his voice was at a fever pitch and it was a pure shot of adrenaline. “It was a timing thing; it was my time to get it in the back. Every great champion at some point gets back on the ropes or takes something some people consider to be a fall. You just got to keep on doing what you’re doing and work it out,” LL said to Rolling Stone of the song. By the time he reached the end of the record with his repeated refrain of “DAMAGE,” his voice was nearly cracking, resembling its shrillness from earlier songs like “Rock The Bells” and “Jack The Ripper” for one of the last times, making the record the ultimate bridge between LL’s past and the newly vibrant future he was willing for himself by sheer, brute force.

That future retained the successful elements of the past. He had re-gained the respect of his male audience with lyrical explosions like the title track. Songs like “Around The Way Girl,” which was sexy, respectful and celebratory of strong, down-to-earth women, re-connected him with the grown up version of the women he had serenaded in “I Need Love.” Equally importantly, his new cadence and the sonic framework that DJ Marley Marl architected for him re-positioned him for a run through the ’90s and into the ’00s. His last significant charting single would come in the form of the 2004 Timbaland-produced song “Headsprung,” which would climb all the way to #4 on the Hot Rap Songs chart, along with the album The DEFinition, which reached the same slot on the overall album chart. That capped a run of nearly 20-years for LL as a chart-topper, an enviable position for any artist in any genre. In Hip-Hop, it is a feat that has not yet been accomplished by any other MC or group, though Snoop Dogg and Jay Z may be closing in on Mr. Smith.

The irony about Mama Said Knock You Out is that, while at the time LL considered it to be an insult to be accused of “coming back,” it is actually a feat about which he should be exceedingly proud. Hip-Hop, more than any other genre, has proven to be unforgiving. It is constantly cited as a young person’s “game,” though that is changing, and the attention span of its audience is often “on to the next one.” An extremely small number of artists have experienced a decline in their careers and come back to achieve equal or greater heights. Perhaps that distinction could go to Snoop, Jay or Eminem, but one is hard-pressed to name others. Before them all, however, it was Ladies Love Cool James Todd Smith who came back with a knockout in 1990.

Related: Can You Feel It: Why 1984 Is Hip-Hop’s Watershed Moment (Food For Thought)

In the last 15 years, has an artist used the medium of music videos as profoundly and as dynamically as Kanye West? At last night’s (August 30) 2015 MTV Video Music Awards, Mr. West received the honorary Michael Jackson Video Vanguard Award, placing him in the company of not only the award’s namesake, but in a 31-year gallery that includes The Beatles, Madonna, Beyonce, Guns N’ Roses, and LL Cool J.

Upon receiving the award from Taylor Swift, an emotional Kanye West left his first row seats, surrounded by wife Kim Kardashian, sister-in-laws Kourtney and Kylie, and longtime manager Don C. After more than one minute of crowd applause, ‘Ye reacted.

“First off, thank you Taylor [Swift] for being so gracious in giving me this award this evening,” began the artist who nearly six years ago, famously interrupted the Country-Pop sensation upon an award speech of her own. “I often think back to the first day I met you,” he said with a smirk. “I think about [it] when I’m in the grocery store with my daughter and I have a really great conversation about fresh juice—and at the end, [the people I talk to will] say, ‘You’re not really that bad, after all.'” He also admitted to being jeered by crowds of 60,000 at Major League Baseball games for the same reasons. He added that he often thinks back to September, 2009, “If I had to do it all again, what would I have I done?” After making jokes about his leathery fashion choice, and drinking half of a bottle of Hennessy (which he shared with the crowd), the father of one with another child on the way professed, “If I had a daughter at that time, would I have gone on stage and grabbed the mic from someone else’s?”

Looking at his image since that event, he publicly deduced, “After that night, the stage was gone, but the effect that it had on people remained.” That evening was in the midst of some of Kanye’s most tumultuous times. Less than a year removed from 808’s & Heartbreak (for which he was nominated but did not win), West was still mourning the late 2007 death of his mother, Dr. Donda West. After breaking up with five-plus-year girlfriend Alexis Phifer, the Def Jam/Roc-A-Fella Records star began a high-profile relationship with Amber Rose—his guest and companion that 2009 night. The grieving, wistful, and vulnerable artist of the late ’00s is a stark contrast, at least in album content, to that heard on his most recent Yeezus, the very name chanted by MTV show-goers. Perhaps in that night, Kanye went to the “angry” image he is given (and at times embraces) in dealings with media, paparazzi, and microphones, during his in-concert monologues that are regularly labeled with “rant” taxonomy.

Later in the speech, which took more than 13 minutes of live airtime, Kanye West acknowledged that networks, media, and the Internet have benefited from his polarizing image. He seemingly called out MTV for replaying the 2009 event repeatedly, as well for promoting the fact that Swift would be West’s presenter for the Vanguard award. The celebrity stated his ongoing opinion that conflicts with award shows, and deeming top creatives “losers” simply by not winning. He used Justin Timberlake and Gnarls Barkley works as examples, beyond his penchant for Beyonce’s “Single Ladies,” which propelled him to the podium six years prior.

Half a dozen years removed from one major televised event, West is 10 years to the week removed from another. On September 2, 2005, Kanye West went off-script for “A Concert For Hurricane Katrina Relief” to tell NBC viewers—and subsequently, many more, “George Bush doesn’t care about Black people.” While those sentiments ultimately prompted reaction from the then President of the United States, West publicly stated a controversial opinion that made impact. At a time when few were expressing anything but sympathy, Kanye West was a vessel for the anger many felt watching people lose their lives, their homes, and their histories on the government’s watch.

Perhaps speaking to his 2005 news-making statement, West continued, “Sometimes I feel I died for the artist opinion—I died for artists to have an opinion after they were successful.” Appearing publicly 10 years to the day after he released sophomore, Grammy Award-winning Late Registration, Kanye added, “I’m not no politician, bro.” The same words he stated at the top of his speech were repeated, “Listen to the kids, bro!” Referencing his music and celebrity, the veteran stated, “I will die for the art—for what I believe in. And the art won’t always be polite.” Admitting he had “rolled something up to take the edge off” earlier in the night, he offered advice to his creative peers, “Just worry how you feel at the time, man!” Later on, he would declare, “It’s about ideas, bro. New ideas—people who believe in truth.”

Discussing this era of change, perhaps something related to his diverse portfolio of visuals, Kanye then charged, “We not gonna teach low self-esteem and hate to our kids.” He urged that tomorrow’s youth will know how to stand up for themselves, as well as their beliefs. Applying that to his own family heritage, West touted, “If my grandfather was here right now, he would not let me back down.”

Perhaps with both President Bush, and West’s freedom of speech, and President Obama, who called ‘Ye “a jackass” following the 2009 bum-rush of the stage, Kanye West left people with an announcement that permeated the news streams into this morning, “And yes, as you could’ve probably guessed by this moment, in 2020, I have decided to run for President.”

At work on an album reportedly called SWISH, Kanye West’s next moves are a mere guess. 2015’s “FourFiveSeconds” seemingly bridged the gap from a tempered posture and a sheer emotional explosion. Last year’s “Only One” looked back at his mother, and looked at his family now, a loving link between Late Registration and 808’s, at least in content and theme. With an upcoming complete 808’s & Heartbreak concert at California’s outdoor Hollywood Bowl, his past and many shades are deeply relevant to his present.

Nine years ago today (August 31, 2006), Kanye West presented Hype Williams with the Michael Jackson Vanguard Video Award. A lot changed in the near-decade between Kanye West handing a trophy, and being handed one. In the video content alone, it has been a musical and music video run as strong as any. However, the mood, attitude, and gumption of the man behind the art appears to be coming to terms with some things, and hoping to better understand new ones.

Do you take Kanye’s politician ambitions seriously regarding 2020? Does this VMA speech affect your opinion of the man behind the music?

Related: Macklemore, Melle Mel, Grandmaster Caz & Kool Moe Dee Stage an Epic VMA Opening (Video)

Police officers (and law enforcement officials) murdering unarmed people of color has been a resounding issue, especially since the 2012 death of Trayvon Martin. However, while mainstream media has not always looked at the issue that extends back throughout the United States’ history, other media has. One of those sources for reflection and commentary has been Hip-Hop music.

In the film Straight Outta Compton, viewers can see the personal experience with the Los Angeles Police Department that prompted an angry Ice Cube to combat racial profiling and police brutality with his opening verse in N.W.A.’s 1988 subversive street anthem “Fuck Tha Police.” Three years later, for the 1990s, Large Professor and Main Source equated America’s pastime to police beating down Black people with bats in “Just A Friendly Game Of Baseball.” For the 2000s, less than six months into the millennium, that conversation piece was Hip Hop For Respect.

Just months removed from Black On Both Sides, the four-song EP (plus instrumentals) was led by Mos Def, Talib Kweli, Pharaohe Monch, and others. Grantland and journalist Thomas Golianopoulos examine the Rawkus Records effort more than 15 years later, with reflective commentary by Kweli, Monch, in addition to Jean Grae and one of the label’s co-founders, Jarret Myer.

“I was inspired by artists who were directly involved in actions through music and beyond music that spoke to the need of the community,” organizer Talib Kweli explains today. Recently, the Brooklyn, New York MC traveled to Ferguson, Missouri with Pharoahe Monch to perform a free concert fundraiser for locals. “I just thought that that’s what you’re supposed to be doing.” Throughout his nearly 20-year career, the Black Star/Reflection Eternal/Idle Warship MC has promoted activism, and civic pride. “Local, state, federal cops have been paid properly / To protect the property /How can I just stand by and watch a man die for nothin’ and not react? / The way we spit on this track is how we bustin back,” rapped Kweli on the Organized Noize-produced title track he helped orchestrate. The April 25, 2000 EP released just days after Sean Carroll, Richard Murphy, Edward McMellon and Kenneth Boss were acquitted for the murder of unarmed immigrant Amadou Diallo. On February 4, 1999, Diallo was shot at 41 times, with 19 of those cartridges striking him in the Bronx, New York. A crime scene investigation and report from the officers on duty revealed that Diallo drew a wallet to show officers upon apprehension. The aforementioned NYPD officers believed it was a gun. Thought to be a wanted rapist in the area, Amadou Diallo died an innocent man.

Jean Grae, who at the time had come from underground Hip-Hop collective Natural Resource recalls, “It absolutely changed the navigation of what some of us as artists chose to start writing about.” Interestingly, Kweli, Yasiin Bey (f/k/a Mos Def) and Rawkus opened a call to the Hip-Hop peers, prompting the title. More than a month before the EP was released, the organizers sent an industry-wide call to recording arms, for those hurt and affected by the climate of policing. In turn, Common, De La Soul’s Posdnuos, Kool G Rap, PMD, Flipmode Squad’s Rah Digga, Ras Kass, Channel Live, Rockness Monstah, Aesop Rock, El-P, Nine, Wordsworth, J-Live, and others responded. In speaking with Grantland, Kweli recalls being optimistic, given the profile of some of the diverse supporters. While stars of the day like Puff Daddy, Master P, Ma$e and DMX did not show up, plenty of established, charting, and acclaimed voices did.

However, when it came to commercial, radio, video, and historic response, Talib says the impact was lost. “No one supported it, and that was a bit of a surprise to me because we worked hard on it. I was young and I was naïve and I know a lot more about the music business now.” Today, the former book-store owner says, he would be prepared for ignorance. “Now it doesn’t surprise me at all.”

The feature also examines how this particular unified call to arms was darker than that of Self-Destruction’s “Stop The Violence” or the West Coast All-Stars’ “We’re All In The Same Gang.” In many places, the message to the oppressors was closer to narratives from Cube, Paris, or Ice-T. “Pretty dark,” Monch admits, looking back at some of the project’s specific lyrics.

Jarret Myer, Rawkus’ co-founder, was surprised by this reaction. “We thought we were making history, but we also expected the media and DJs to embrace it more.” The label found strong success in the late 1990s and early 2000s, introducing and re-introducing MCs to the masses. Kweli maintains belief that the label did not give the project the muscle they had with Black On Both Sides months earlier, a subsequent gold-certified solo debut.

Fifteen years later, Hip Hop For Respect is tragically relevant. In the wake of ongoing murders and brutality, the extended play resonates. “I feel like the overall impact we had over time, history favors it,” says Kweli. He also points out that today’s climate misses the point, citing Game’s mass-led Michael Brown tribute being quickly forgotten in the fast-moving digital timelines.

In remembering a unique, embarrassingly topical, and powerful Hip-Hop moment, do you think the recognition and response to musical protest and power has shifted? Why?

Read: Before #BlackLivesMatter: Remembering ‘Hip Hop for Respect’ and Rap’s Response to Police Brutality at Grantland

Related: Do Remember: Main Source’s Just A Friendly Game Of Baseball (by Rob Swift)

In all genres of music, the term “classic” prompts debate. Cultural conservatives argue it is used too freely, and often stamped on works of art prematurely. On the other hand, liberally-minded art patrons maintain that placing restrictions on calling an item classic misses the point entirely. Especially with so much music coming out, in all levels and channels—naturally, a few works will forever endure.

These two schools of thought meet in the middle, as they seemingly must. In Hip-Hop music, a genre that only has existed on albums for 35 years, this case-by-case debate runs fervent. Like Jazz, Hip-Hop itself is a broad taxonomy. Within, there is singing, there is instrumental music, Spoken Word, and more. Over the decades, Hip-Hop’s relationship with Disco, R&B, House, Rock, and even Jazz has varied. Few cultures are more organic, and remind its fans of that as often as Hip-Hop. Where it is going in 2016 or any year is a point of speculation.

In anything, classics are what we hold onto as benchmarks of greatness. In his meteoric early 2000s mainstream rise, 50 Cent studied KRS-One and Boogie Down Productions. As Get Rich Or Die Tryin’ positioned itself as a take-by-force industry shakedown album, Curtis Jackson studied KRS and Scott La Rock’s Criminal Minded. The B-Boy Records album was not a sales juggernaut in 1987, but set the tone for a tipping point manifesto. The album brought the old Rap guard a sense of unease, and proudly signaled its listeners that the new wave was entering.

As a people who learn from looking backwards, classic are things we all come back to. Levi’s bluejeans, 1959 Cadillac taillights, the Big Mac. Whether fashion, food, art, expression, some things just weather the ages with grace.

In Hip-Hop, authenticity is the biggest quality to making a classic. Ideally, most works are from an authentic place in an artist’s mind, spirit, and vision. Not all of these succeed. However, in looking in reverse, Nas’ Illmatic is relevant because of its innovative flow, introspective songwriting, and game-changing production. But in listening to “NY State Of Mind” 21 years later, one can hear the man vs. world conflict in the 21 year-old from Queens looking to survive long enough to make his mark on the world. In the film Straight Outta Compton, audiences can see how Ice Cube’s anger, Dre’s angst, and Eazy-E’s hunger all came from a very real place. The albums that copied, pandered, and played as disingenuous are rarely the ones in repressing, stamped onto t-shirts, or discussed at length in interviews by the new guard of creatives.

Right behind authenticity is originality. Time tells all. More than 20 years later, Heads can plainly see the impact of Three 6 Mafia, UGK, and Outkast. Often marginalized in the mid-1990s, these acts not only fought to put on for their various cities and regions, they did so with sonic styles quite contrary to their peers. Twenty years ago, at the 1995 Source Awards, Big Boi and Andre 3000 were famously booed when Outkast took home “Best New Artist, Group” honors. It’s quite plausible that it was the last time Outkast would—ever—be jeered. Even before the wigs and playful plaid, Outkast challenged the status quo of Hip-Hop. Southernplayalisticadillacmuzik found its own frontier, and planted a flag.

Beyond originality, substance also helps certify a classic. Public Enemy’s It Takes A Nation Of Millions To Hold Us Back may be one of Hip-Hop’s greatest albums because of its potency. Chuck D attacked media, addiction, numbing television, politics, and a litany of oppressors on P.E.’s sophomore LP. That message was matched with a sound as charged, filled with war-drums and slicing scratches. Nearly 30 years later, this Def Jam Records release is forever associated with Black Power, underdogs overpowering the system, and Rap with a message. On the personal side, The Notorious B.I.G. made a memoir album in 1994’s Ready To Die. From his mother’s battle with cancer to the conflict of hustling and being a father, and battling suicidal thoughts, Biggie Smalls’ opened his world on his debut. Not without its share of party cuts, the album went to places most MCs refused to go. Christopher Wallace’s personal courage was rewarded, and his effort became an archetype for just how far artists must go if they want a relationship with their audiences. While Kendrick Lamar and Drake’s music sounds very different from B.I.G.’s, they clearly have applied the lessons.

Although music is ultimately the vehicle, classic albums are also determined by an X-factor, the total package. The Beastie Boys’ outrageous music videos were supporting props to the trio’s amazing first five albums. Tupac Shakur’s life outside of Me Against The World only further contextualizes its mind-state and significance. You cannot think about MF DOOM’s Operation Doomsday without the mask, N.W.A.’s Straight Outta Compton without the black hats, or Eric B. & Rakim’s Paid In Full without the gold ropes. These are not just props, but touchstones that relive the moment, the attitude, and support the contents of the album.

As Hip-Hop knights its classics, these are the qualities that stand out. Regardless of the year something was made, the vitality of the label that released it, or the sales it encountered, the qualifiers never change. Albums by pop culture icons stand beside underground luminaries. Platinum and self-released are one in the same. The “classic” jacket can plainly be bestowed upon voices of social revolution as much as carefree party albums—both still achieving their purpose. Authenticity, originality, substance, and that X-factor will forever be the stat-sheet that we all, consciously or subconsciously check. These are the qualities that keep us coming back, telling our friends, and traveling backwards to go forward with our own musical journey.

What do you think makes a classic Hip-Hop album?

Related: See Round 1 (The 1980s) of Ambrosia For Heads’ Finding The GOAT: The Albums

20 years ago today (October 6, 1995) Dead Presidents was released in theaters and with it arrived one of the most powerful depictions of Black Veterans in the history of American cinema. Starring Terrence Howard, Larenz Tate, Chris Tucker, and Bookeem Woodbine among others, the film was directed by brothers Albert and Allen Hughes, who had previously directed Menace II Society, and while Dead Presidents was not as commercially successful as the 1993 drama, it nevertheless contributed some searing imagery to the canon of African-American film. The Vietnam War plays the lead role, providing a backdrop for the film’s characters that inevitably affects their lives, sometimes gravely. Plagues often met by veterans upon returning home – addiction, crime, psychological debilitation – are the punctuating elements of the film’s plot, dictating what obstacles the characters face and in this movie’s case, do not overcome. Dead Presidents tragically depicts the sick irony faced by too many members of the Armed Forces, that of risking one’s life for a country only to be abandoned by it upon returning to American soil, an issue that continues to reverberate in this country, 40 years since the Vietnam War ended.

Much of the film’s inspiration was drawn from Bloods: An Oral History of the Vietnam War by Black Veterans, a 1984 book by Wallace Terry, who at only 29-years-old landed a Time magazine cover story in 1967 called “The Negro in Vietnam.” The Indianapolis native had already amassed impressive career touchstones, including becoming the first African-American editor-in-chief of an Ivy League newspaper at Brown University. He went on to continue his studies as a Rockefeller Fellow at the University of Chicago and then at Harvard University, where he became a Nieman Fellow. At only 19, the Washington Post hired him and 7 years later he was in Vietnam, serving as the first Black war correspondent on permanent duty. His experiences there, including time spent alongside assault troops, inspired him to write the oral history that would one day serve as the foundation for Dead Presidents; the book became a national bestseller and earned a Pulitzer Prize nomination.

It was the testimony of a man named Haywood T. Kirkland, a Vietnam War veteran who shared his experiences during and after the war in Terry’s book, that would stand out to the filmmakers. It was Kirkland who, unbeknownst to him, set in motion the vision for one of Dead Presidents‘ most memorable scenes by divulging the story behind one fateful day, when he and some comrades decided to rob a postal truck in 1969 Washington, D.C. According to a 1995 Post story, Kirkland (who would go on to change his name to Ari Sesu Merretazon) and two other men were armed and discovered a bag containing more than $300,000 in worn out, nearly tattered currency. According to Merretazon, “He instructed the driver to tell the police that the robbers were white; then he reconsidered and told the driver to say ‘Some brothers robbed [me] and they all look alike.'” Merretazon spoke with the Post after a screening of Dead Presidents, where he shared with reporter Kim Masters that while much of the film’s trajectory rang true to his own life (Larenz Tate’s character is loosely based on Merretazon), what was omitted was “how his decision to rob the truck was born of political rage. It didn’t show how he became an inmate leader while serving time at the Lorton Correctional Facility, how he testified before Congress about the problems confronting incarcerated veterans, how President Carter invited him to the White House.”

Nevertheless, for the countless movie-goers who watched the tragic tale of many men and women affected by a horrific war only a generation earlier, a stark reality was echoed. Just as Chris Tucker’s character suffered from a heroin addiction that would eventually end his life, the mid-’90s were, for a lot of Americans, an era during which crack cocaine’s stranglehold during the 1980s was still very much real and an epidemic that disproportionately affected communities of color. Contemporary conflicts in Bosnia and Herzegovina, Kuwait, Iraq, Somalia, and Haiti were collectively killing thousands of American service members, many of them men and women of color. And the fallout from 1992’s Rodney King riots had once again magnified the discussion of equality and civil rights that would contribute to the 1995 Million Man March, which took place only 10 days after the film’s release. For many who saw the film at that time, watching the plight many of their own parents faced rang eerily true for their own lives, an unfortunate reality that allows the film’s relevance to remain as powerfully resonant in 1995 as it does today.

In recent years, the affairs of veterans have taken a prominent seat at the table of American political discourse, particularly as they relate to healthcare. Many argue that veterans have been consistently neglected since before the Vietnam war, often ending up homeless, unemployed, incarcerated and both physically and psychologically ill. For many veterans of color, those problems are exacerbated by poverty and socio-economic factors that once again disproportionately affect minorities, but there is one category in which African-American veterans fare better. According to a report published by the Los Angeles Times in September, “a new analysis of nearly 3.1 million patients in the VA system has found a different kind of racial divide…researchers found that the adjusted mortality rate of African-Americans was 24% lower than that of whites.” While certainly not indicative of racial equality on a large scale, those statistics offer up a piece of rare good news for a community too often found on the unjust side of history.

Two decades after its release, Dead Presidents continues its legacy of being a brave, pioneering look at the lives of America’s disenfranchised. The film’s most direct legacy, however, is its serving as a metaphor for the state of human relations and the commonalities between how both people and money are treated. As Keith David’s character Kirby succinctly puts it in the film, “that’s Uncle Sam for you, son. Money to burn.”

Related: At 20 Years Old, Fresh Remains an Underrated Classic Hip-Hop Film (Video)

It was just under two weeks before Halloween in 2000 when Ludacris, an MC from Atlanta, Georgia whose independently released Incognegro a year earlier barely registered on the charts, dropped his second album. It’s possible the spooky story of the dreaded “sophomore slump” circulated around the periphery of his consciousness; after all, Jay Z, Snoop Dogg, Missy Elliott, Wu-Tang Clan, and even Luda’s mentor, Scarface had seemingly suffered from the syndrome, releasing follow-up projects that failed to reach the critical or commercial success of their debuts. Nevertheless, Luda braved the choppy waters and Back For The First Time not only would go on to triple-platinum status, but it signaled his major-label debut and the arrival of a superstar, 15 years ago today (October 17, 2000).

This triumphant feat was particularly amazing considering the album’s content. 75% of the tracks on the LP appeared on Incognegro, making Back for the First Time both perfectly titled but also confirmation that he already possessed the talent for a major label despite not having been signed. That isn’t to say that the Scarface-helmed Def Jam South played an insignificant role in the album’s success. “Phat Rabbit,” “Southern Hospitality,” “Stick Em Up,” and a remix to “What’s Your Fantasy” with Foxy Brown and Trina were added to the re-loaded album, but even “Phat Rabbit” had its origins in earlier years as the result of a collaboration with Timbaland in the late ’90s. Back For The First Time‘s tracklist reads like a who’s who of super producers, with Bangladesh, Jermaine Dupri, The Neptunes, Organized Noize, and Timbaland handling the lion’s share of the work, resulting in what may be one of the most exemplary sonic time capsules of the early ’00s. In less than two months, the album was certified platinum by the RIAA and it would serve as the springboard for 2001’s Word of Mouf, which achieved its own triple-platinum status in just 11 months.

The album begins with the barreling “U Got a Problem?” which invites listeners to get right in the face of a man who is determined to claim his rightful spot at the top. In addition to introducing listeners to Disturbing Tha Peace, the opening cut possesses much of the signature qualities of Ludacris The Rapper’s style. His multi-syllabic approach to bar construction is clearly evident, as is his humor (“you shit out wheat Chex and fart out deep breaths”). With no hook, the song relies on three meaty verses whereas the album’s closing track, “Phat Rabbit,” is a richly produced duet that sounds straight out of the Freaknik. In between the album’s bookends are 11 tracks that made the album so well received, it only needed to spawn two singles. Contributing verses from Fate Wilson, I-20, Pastor Troy, and UGK made it a distinctly Southern affair while contributions from Shawnna and Pharrell on those singles helped the project appeal to a wider range of Hip-Hop fan. “What’s Your Fantasy?” made “back seat, windows up…” a common colloquialism while “Southern Hospitality” continues to elicit instantaneous elbow throwing.

Part of Back For The First Time’s nostalgia-inducing quality for many Heads is its inclusion of what was then the ubiquitous album skits. Just like fellow Southern Hip-Hoppers the 504 Boyz’ 2000 debut Goodfellas, the Big Tymers’ 2000 album I Got That Work, Three 6 Mafia’s 2000 album When The Smoke Clears: Sixty 6, Sixty 1, the St. Lunatics’ 2001 album Free City and others, Back For The First Time punctuated its musical contents with straight comedy. “Come On Over,” “Ho,” and “Tickets Sold Out” add some levity where tracks like “Hood Stuck” and “Stick Em Up” add braggadocio-laced threats. Throughout, the high-wattage energy of tracks like “Game Got Switched”  and “Get Off Me” resonate and spill into the posse cuts “1st & 10″ and “Catch Up.”  One of the album’s most memorable tracks is “Mouthing Off,” which features a cypher-like swagger accompanied by 4-Ize, beatboxing and even a reference to A Tribe Called Quest. “Ho” wasn’t a blockbuster single, but its cult popularity makes it a contender for a fan favorite.

Christopher “Ludacris” Bridges has released a total of 9 solo albums winning three Grammy Awards (including “Best Rap Album” for 2006’s Release Therapy), nine BET Awards, and a Screen Actors’ Guild Award (for “Outstanding Performance by a Cast in a Motion Picture,” thanks to his appearance in 2004’s Crash) along the way, among other awards. For Heads, though, perhaps his most enduring legacy is that which contributed to the astronomical rise of Southern Rap. According to the book Third Coast: OutKast, Timbaland, and How Hip-Hop Became a Southern Thing, Southern Rap acts constituted nearly 60% of Hip-Hop singles in 2002. In the years immediately following, Outkast earned six Grammy nominations, Three 6 Mafia won an Oscar, and Houston, Texas quite literally blew up, disseminating a slew of artists including Chamillionaire, Mike Jones, and Paul Wall into the mainstream. The success of Ludacris’ albums Word Of Mouf and Chicken-n-Beer undoubtedly helped cultivate such a landscape, and while his name is not often mentioned when discussing the most influential and original MCs, Ludacris serves as one of Hip-Hop’s greatest ambassadors to the world, thanks to his involvement in philanthropy and blockbuster film franchises.

15 years later, Back For The First Time joins Ludacris’ latest album in his discography. 2015’s Ludaversal may not have been as commercially successful, but it stands as a testament to Luda’s determination. After three years of delays, it was finally released and debuted at #3 on the Billboard 200 chart. Along with the birth of his daughter, 2015 has brought the veteran spitter a full plate of accomplishments, which also includes a guest-star role on the enormously successful television show, “Empire.” On October 17, 2000, Ludacris came back for the first time, and to the great delight of Heads everywhere, he has never left.

Related: Ludacris Has A Dope & Duplicitous Visual For Grass Is Always Greener (Video)

This December marks eight years since Pimp C passed away. The man born Chad Butler built a career around making a well-seasoned gumbo with his far-reaching love of music. UGK, the Underground Kingz that Pimp C and Bun B established in the late 1980s, sprinkled Hip-Hop with elements of Blues, Funk, Soul, Country, and Gospel. Combined with uncompromising accounts of street life and attitude-heavy deliveries, the Port Arthur, Texas tandem would eventually garner a #1 album, and the mainstream adoration that alluded them, despite critical praise and peer-respect from Too Short to Brand Nubian, WC to Kool G Rap.

Understanding Chad Butler, even for those who knew him, is complicated. He was brash, yet sensitive. He was a hustler, yet a perfectionist. He was a studio genius, who battled mental health challenges. Author and photographer Julia Beverly documented Pimp C and UGK through her third coast-essential OZONE magazine. She came to know Butler, and the two artistic mavericks bonded. After Chad’s 2007 death, it was the Orlando, Florida-based Beverly who worked with Mama Wes (Pimp C’s) mom in putting his life story to print. Sweet Jones: Pimp C’s Trill Life Story not only unearths the legend behind the lyrics, the self-published, 700-plus page book aims to raise the bar on Hip-Hop biographies. Filled with rare photographs, and elusive documented information, this text shows how the musical persona was an accurate extension of the fearless musician. Speaking with Ambrosia For Heads, Julia Beverly reflects on the last two years of Pimp C’s life and career, debunks his solo discography, and reveals some deeper forces at play as to why one of Hip-Hop’s greats is not here to see his impact.

Photo used by permission from Julia Beverly.

Ambrosia For Heads: There are certain figures in Hip-Hop who seem to change drastically over time. Tupac Shakur is one of them, early in his career, versus the last two years of his life. Busta Rhymes, Fat Joe, even the late Guru seem to have undergone noticeable transformations. I met and came to know Pimp C after his incarceration. You were around before and after. How did that experience change his demeanor, personality, and his creativity?

Julia Beverly: Well, I actually didn’t meet Pimp [C] until he was in prison. So I personally didn’t have the experience of knowing him prior to him going in. But I know a lot of the people that I talked with talked about how crazy he had been, or how out of control and wild [he was]. He was really struggling with a lot of things, prior to him going to prison. Depending on who I talked to, different people had different perspectives. Some of his friends felt like it was a drug issue—that things were really gettin’ out of control. His mom had kind of an opposite perspective. She wasn’t naive to the fact that he was using drugs, but she felt like that was more so a symptom of things he was dealing with, as far as mental health issues. He was actually diagnosed bipolar. He thought that he had a touch of schizophrenia. And he had pretty severe depression issues. So I think the biggest thing [with] him being incarcerated, he was able to not only detox, but I don’t think he started taking his psychiatric medication prior. That was part of it as well: he was dealing with his mental health issues, and he didn’t have the drug issues causing extra problems for him. That was probably the biggest thing: him being in a real great, clear state of mind.

A lot of his friends that were real close to him—Big Gipp, Too Short, and guys like that, talked about how impressed they were with the clarity he had when he came home. He had been able to get his head right and get some perspective on where he wanted to go in life and things like that.

I don’t know that I’d say he changed. A lot of people would hear him later on in life, in these wild statements that he’d make and the crazy interviews [portrayed as] the flamboyant Pimp C character… but I think that was always in him. Even going back to his high school record, he started out dissing the high school bully. He thought Rap-A-Lot [Records] had stolen a beat from him, and he did a diss record. If you can picture a kid who’s 16 years old or so making a diss record against one of the most powerful record labels in the area, he always had that ballsy kind of attitude. He was never afraid to speak what was on his mind. So in that sense, I don’t think he really changed. Even people who had known him for a long time, when they heard that infamous HOT 107 interview when people were like, “he’s crazy”—people who knew him were like, “That’s nothing. That’s normal.” It just had never been put on that platform before, where it reached so many people.

I don’t know that I’d say he changed, but being incarcerated definitely gave him a new perspective and mellowed him out a little bit. I think he always had both sides to him: he had that loud, flamboyant character that he created—but him personally, he was a really shy, thoughtful, introverted person.

Ambrosia For Heads: Your book went to the “trill” itself. You interviewed and gathered information from not only family and peers, but street figures from Pimp’s life. To what extent did this feel like investigative journalism, beyond simply a biography?

Julia Beverly: It definitely was an investigative journalism excursion. Because we talk about so many things in the book that are actually documented, and nobody had taken the time to dig [them] up—of not necessarily just Pimp, but other [items]. There were a lot of documented sources as far as court cases and things like that. Yeah, I think journalists have gotten lazy, especially in Hip-Hop. I read an article very early in the process when I was working on this book—I want to say it was [an interview] with KRS-One, I could be wrong—somebody like that was talking about how Hip-Hop journalism is lazy, and a lot of people hear something in a song and assume it’s a fact, and use it as that. They’re kind of just repeating the same story, over and over again, without actually talking to people who were there. So yeah, I definitely put in a lot of effort to track down people who were there when different situations actually happened.

For example, if something is discussed in a song, is this actually what happened? What was the actual story that led to these lyrics being put into this song? I’ve always been a big reader of all different types of books, mostly nonfiction. I read a lot of history books from even 100 years ago. I remember reading a book about the hurricane that came through Galveston, Texas around 1900 or so. It just had so much detail in the book. I just thought, if someone can research something that happened 100 years ago and have the details on what they were wearing, what the dialog was, and stuff like that, how hard can it be to do something like that with [an event] of the last 20 years? So I definitely wanted it to be an accurate, historical portrayal, and not just be repeating things that had already been said.

Ambrosia For Heads: OZONE really has been instrumental in capturing the fellowship, the fashion, and the diversity of Hip-Hop, particularly in the South—it took equal billing to the interviews and articles. I always attributed that to your photography background. In writing and creating this book, how did your photographer’s sensibility shape it?

Julia Beverly: That’s an interesting question. I’m glad that you viewed OZONE that way. I don’t know if it was all the way intentional, but I always wanted OZONE to be viewed as cutting-edge, as far as visually. I did most of the photography myself, more so out of not having a budget to hire anyone else, but I also enjoyed the process of capturing something visually. In terms of the book, I kind of wrote this book for myself. As I was writing, I was thinking, “What would I want to read?” ‘Cause I am an avid reader, so I wrote it for someone who reads like me.

It bothers me when I’m reading something and I can’t picture what the person looks like. Rather than read [a poor description], I’d rather see a picture. [The book] has more than 150 pages of images: photos and documents. It’s a lot of stuff that I took later in his career and a lot of stuff his mom gave me from earlier in his life. I’m happy with how it came out. People said to me when this came out, “Oh, ‘Hip-Hop people’ don’t read books.” There’s a little truth to that, but I’ve had so many people come up to me and say, “I have to buy this book. You don’t know long it’s been since I’ve bought a book.” I’ve actually had a lot of people tell me, “I’ve never actually sat down and read a book before, but this is a topic I’m interested in, so I’m gonna read it.” I felt like [for these people], the visuals would [make this] a collector’s item, as well.

Ambrosia For Heads: From the UGK records to Big Mike, Pimp C was an incredible producer—with Blues, Soul, and Funk sensibilities. From your understanding, why did he seem to move his focus to just rapping?

Julia Beverly: I don’t think that’s necessarily true. I think production was always his focus. But he didn’t produce for artists on the level where you’d hear the record. That was kind of interesting to me. He did a lot of production, it was just a lot of underground stuff. It’s definitely a shame that there isn’t more of his production backed by other well-known artists.

If you’re asking me about like when he came home… when he came home, he knocked out that Pimpalation album real quick. He did more rapping on that than production, but I think that was more in the interest of time. They just wanted to get something out; he had made a deal with Rap-A-Lot to put that album out as kind of a compilation. So he wanted to get something out immediately. Really, I think the reason is that he was such a perfectionist with his production. Even with his solo album, Bun [B] had mentioned that Pimp had been plannin’ on doin’ a solo album ever since high school. He had put together a tracklist for it in the late ‘90s, he had worked on some music. But really, Pimp C never put out an album, himself. The only technically “solo” albums that came out were while he was in prison, and after he passed. He never truly put out an album of his own that he considered a solo project.It was almost like a Dr. Dre Detox, he just had such high expectations for it. Sometimes when artists have such high expectations for themselves, creatively, it’s hard to get there. That was always a battle between him and people that worked with him on the business side, or with his label. They wanted product to get in stores, and he was just so insistent that it be perfect. That was one thing that [former Jive Records CEO] Barry Weiss talked about, during [Too Hard To Swallow], that he’d just get so frustrated with Pimp, ‘cause he was just constantly trying to tweak everything. Jive was like, “Hey, we have a hit record. We need to get an album in stores so we can make money.” There’s always that creative-vs.-business conflict.

I know later in his career, he talked about putting out a solo album. That was gonna be his only album. Then he was gonna solely focus on production. Really, he had a vision for transitioning into more of a singer—even like a Blues singer. That was the direction he wanted to go. A lot of people close to him mentioned that had he lived longer, he would have become an actual Blues singer, and transitioned away from Rap.

Ambrosia For Heads: You mentioned Barry Weiss. Many people can look at UGK releasing all their albums on Jive Records and assume things were great for both parties. Your book gets to the meat of that. Was that aspect surprising to you? Do you think that’s why both Bun B and Pimp C became so devoted and loyal to Rap-A-Lot?

Julia Beverly: For people who were around in the ‘90s, that was pretty well-known. UGK was pretty vocal about the problems with Jive, that they felt like they were in a terrible contract, and that they were in a bad situation, financially. To be honest, they could have just churned out albums and just fulfilled their deal and then moved onto something else.

Wendy Day was a consultant who worked with them in the late ‘90s, trying to help them either redo their deal, or get out out of their contract. She said she felt like there were errors on both sides of the table. Although it was true that Jive wasn’t spending the same amount of money on UGK that they were putting into other acts, that maybe were not selling as many records, she felt that maybe Pimp in particular and UGK had unrealistic expectations for what Jive was going to do for them. Technically, Jive was still an independent label when they signed them. I don’t think Pimp really understood the sampling process, as well. Every time you sample a record, that’s money being paid out. I saw a royalty statement from when he was incarcerated for a six-month period. [Hypothetically, let us say] they sold $25,000 in records. They [were] paying out more than that in what’s called “producer debits.” A lot of the samples they used, no matter how many records they sold, they were actually [resulting in] negative [earnings]—coming up in the red on the financial side.

Pimp was obviously proficient on the creative side. On the business side, I don’t think that was really his thing. I think there were a lot of mistakes made in terms of when they negotiated their deal. When they first signed their deal, they were 18 years old and didn’t really realize what they were signing.

Ambrosia For Heads: When Pimp C’s mom, Mama Wes passed in 2013, to what extent did that add the importance of publishing this book for you—to the whole Butler family?

Julia Beverly: I was supposed to bring her the rough draft of the book. That was kind of our next step. When I heard that she was in the hospital, I was surprised, first of all. She was very active. The last time I was out there, we went to the Free Press Festival. She was very active, and out and about. I printed out the rough draft, or some parts of it, and said, I need to make sure I get this to her A.S.A.P. I flew out to Port Arthur. She was already sedated, and she passed within 48 hours of me getting out there.

Just being there with the family for the weekend, and experiencing that whole process, that definitely took it beyond…I was definitely more than just a journalist at that point. Having somebody basically on their deathbed wanting you to complete a work that they wanted release, that made it heavy. Definitely. I was already motivated to finish it, but that definitely put the extra motivation to hurry up, set aside everything else, and get the project out.

Ambrosia For Heads: Looking at Pimp C’s discography, group and solo, what record did you feel best exemplifies his spirit and way?

Julia Beverly: That’s a good question. There’s a lot of them. One of my favorite records is “I’m A Hustler,” which was actually supposed to be on his solo album, and ended up coming out while he was in prison [on The Sweet James Jones Stories]. He kind of redid it [as] “Down 4 Mine” was gonna be one of those first records from his solo album that he started working on when he was home, again. That’s probably one.

“Quit Hatin’ The South” was always kind of a funny record to me. I think that was his whole attitude towards the Rap game: “If you guys don’t respect us, we’re just gonna create our own lane, and do our own music.” That record kind of exemplifies that as well.

Ambrosia For Heads: I personally feel that Pimp C (and UGK) is arguably the most influential Hip-Hop artist to the genre’s sound of the last five years. The attitude, the gestalt of sonic sources, the drugs, the outlook, the demand for authenticity. Having watched it all happen in real-time and reflecting over the last eight years, how do you analyze and perceive his impact?

Julia Beverly: I think the impact is definitely still there. One of the things I talked about in the last chapter—I was quoting an online article think-piece about how some of the artists today idolize Pimp so much that it’s hard to grow beyond that or to develop their own status. Because they are so focused on duplicating what he’s done, or honoring him. The influence can be a great thing, but it can also be a limiting thing. How are they gonna develop their own style and their own personas? When you look at Pimp C, he was a star. Not just the music, but his whole image and presentation, he was a star. I feel like a lot of artists today, while they might be talented rappers, they don’t have the same charisma, the same style as he did. I don’t think there’s a lot of superstars anymore. There’s people who have records. But it’s not the same as it once was.

Ambrosia For Heads: In your book, it focuses on how certain events in the mid-2000s—including the incarceration shaped Pimp C greatly. As a friend and an expert, do you think stress is the real reason Chad Butler is not with us?

Julia Beverly: [Pauses] I would say that he wasn’t as careful as he should have been about the people who were around him. When you’re in any type of position like that, once you get in the spotlight like that, you attract all kinds of bullshit. Then it gets harder for people who actually genuinely care about you to have access to you, if that makes sense? I think it was more so the people around him contributed to maybe not havin’ the greatest support system. ‘Cause he was in a great place when he first came home, and then it seemed like he had more people around him who were maybe more concerned with “being with Pimp C” rather than Chad Butler’s well-being.

Sweet Jones: Pimp C’s Trill Life Story

Related: The UGK & B.B. King Mash-Up Has Arrived. Here Is ‘The Trill Is Gone’ (Mixtape)

In what has come to be known as “Back To The Future Day” (October 21, 2015), the fictional date portrayed as “the future” in the sequel to Robert Zemeckis’ 1985 film has actually arrived. The Michael J. Fox blockbuster franchise is still a cultural touchstone more than 30 years since the first installment hit theaters—a work that highlights the butterfly effect of every one’s individual decisions within our lives.

Back To The Future II fictionally forecast additional Jaws movies, a Chicago Cubs World Series berth, branding on everything, new Pepsi flavors, hover-boards and additional items that have, or are coming close to actualization by the proposed date (especially as the Cubs are currently approaching Game 5 in the NLCS against the New York Mets). It’s safe to say Hollywood was pretty accurate.

After two sequels, a famed Universal Studios attraction, and even the coveted Marty McFly sneakers, this film permeates pop art in the present. So in looking at Hip-Hop, what is our version of Back To The Future?

In Hip-Hop songs, there have been extra terrestrial encounters, apocalyptic forecasts, and predictions surrounding the loss of our cultural identity. However, what is Hip-Hop’s best prediction of the future? A year and a half before sequel Back To The Future: Part II hit theaters, Boogie Down Productions released their own. 1988’s By All Means Necessary was KRS-One’s one-man show that looked at Hip-Hop as it is, as it was, and asserted how it should be.

At 22 years old, Blastmasta KRS had fashioned himself a young career as one of Hip-Hop’s best lyricists. His 1987 LP Criminal Minded homogeneously blended clever “Poetry” with menacing battles and Gangsta Rap. On album two, after losing partner Scott La Rock to a fatal shooting, KRS-One honed in some of that message to uplift the people, and still maintain the competitive spirit.

“I’m Still #1″ would be an iconic vehicle on not only By All Means Necessary, but a defining patch on B.D.P.’s quilt of messages. In the boom-bap single, KRS-One spoke his perception of what was true in 1988, and what may very well be true today.

“People still takin’ rappin’ for a joke / A passin’ hope / Or a phase with a rope,” is how KRS opened the first verse. Less than a decade after “Rapper’s Delight,” the Bronx, New Yorker believed that Rap was treated as an ephemeral art in the mainstream. As Hip-Hop and its elements were regularly spoofed in pop culture in the late ’80s, as well as the subject of “20/20″ and the like, KRS-One fought for validity, maintaining that this was here to stay. Twenty-seven years later, as presidential candidates are using Rap collaborations to jockey voters, and MCs’ albums are honored by the Library Of Congress, Tha Teacha’s attitude towards the naysayers was well-founded. However, in 2015, does Hip-Hop get the same treatment as Rock & Roll or Country? Albeit younger, is the genre often is still deemed as lesser by those in power.

Later in the verse, KRS touted “I’m not Superman / Because anybody can / Or should be able / To rock off of turntable / Grab the mic, plug it in / And begin / But there’s where the problem starts: / No heart / Because of that, a lot of groups fell apart / Rap is still an art / And no one’s from the old school / ‘Cause Rap is still a brand new tool / I say no one’s from the old school / ‘Cause Rap as a whole? / Isn’t even 20 years old.”

In the bars that are believed to be a line aimed at the pioneering class of MCs, KRS-One makes a broader point. He highlights Rap’s fundamentals and its tools of the trade. The lyricist known for his bravado basically says anybody can do this, if they have heart and skill—himself and others included.

As the debate raged about where the talent in Hip-Hop lay, and if it was appropriately represented in the generation of MCs at that time, 1988 KRS-One said “yes.” Those who weren’t there had themselves to blame—not ageism. The MC decried the “old school” label in the ’80s, saying “fifty years down the line, you can start this, ’cause we’ll be the Old School artists.” Nearly 30 years later, as KRS-One, Dr. Dre, LL Cool J, Ice Cube, Too Short, and Erick Sermon make albums, are they “old school” or simply veterans? Dr. Dre arguably has the most-discussed Rap album of 2015 in Compton.

However, as indicated by Macklemore & Ryan Lewis’ controversial video single inclusion of Kool Moe Dee, Grandmaster Caz, and Grandmaster Melle Mel, this is still an issue that’s debated—with Big Daddy Kane and others weighing in. Even the same figures of KRS’ verse are part of the discussion that was resonant in 1988 and continues in 2015. The debate rages on, as does the dialog between pivotal MCs of the ’70s and ’80s and ‘90s, and contemporary voices.

In the next verse, KRS-One showed his own twisting opinion on the subject. “I’m not a beginner, amateur, or local / My album is sellin’ because of my vocals / You know what you need to learn? / Old school artists don’t always burn / You’re just another rapper who’s had his turn / Now it’s my turn! /And I am concerned / About idiots posing as kings / What are we here to rule? I thought we were supposed to sing / And if we oughta’ sing, then us begin to teach / Many of you are educated, open your mouth to speak.”

While KRS decried old and new labels, he also charged that the guard had changed. Signifying that he had the culture’s ear and dismissing others’ misuse of the medium. In the last five years, as artists like Drake, Kendrick Lamar, J. Cole, and others have dominated the charts and acclaim, is there not a parallel? Notably, KRS uses “sing” to describe MCs’ messages. That word is especially prophetic as Drake, Kanye West, Cole, and Fetty Wap have challenged Hip-Hop conventions with albums built heavily around sung vocals. This week alone, Drake has driven discussions surrounding his music video to “Hotline Bling.”

Moreover, the 1988 bars explain the commercial takeover of artists such as Lamar, Cole, or even Lecrae. Substance-driven music continues to grab #1 spots on the charts—in a fashion that even B.D.P. was never able to enjoy (having never charted in the Top 30).

As so much of Back To The Future‘s playful forecasts have come eerily true, is there a better example of similar prophecy in Hip-Hop than “I’m Still #1″? KRS-One’s one-part call for unity, another part line in the sand in 1988 still hold true today.

Related: 20 Years Later, Dead Presidents’ Depiction About Life for War Veterans Still Resonates (Food For Thought Editorial)

Some of the biggest Hip-Hop albums of 2015 were released without much advanced notice. In August, Dr. Dre released Compton, his first studio album of the millennium, and the third in an illustrious lineage that includes The Chronic and 2001, just a couple weeks after it was announced. However, at a time when many music consumers rely on free samplings or multi-platform album streams, only those holding the Apple could hear the surprise LP that made massive, mainstream news. Apple Music subscribers and iTunes buyers were the beneficiaries of a strategy move from the musical icon who’s breathing down the neck of billionaire status. Is this transition from free to paid subscription services ‘the next episode’ or just something that will become old news?

Music’s technological shift is textbook. As anticipated, since the early 2000s, the rise of digital music consumption has resulted in the fall of physical album sales. Total revenues for CDs, vinyl, cassettes and digital downloads in the U.S. dropped from $14.6 billion in 1999 to $9 billion in 2008. As Best Buy relegated its once sprawling music section to a few novelty aisles, Tower Records and Sam Goody closed their doors. In the new music world, online retailers led by iTunes became the commonplace venue to engage with music. Existing streaming platforms like Rhapsody were soon joined by differing streaming experiences, such as Pandora and Spotify, and the burgeoning Tidal and Apple Music joined the share. Like the historical Wild West, the shift yielded a place without rules, that is seemingly still figuring out what is best—for artists and for fans.

Just in recent months, some of Hip-Hop’s biggest artists have used exclusive platforms to parse out content. Diamond-certified alum Eminem promoted the video for his single “Phenomenal” off the Southpaw soundtrack on Apple Music, while Drake premiered the “Energy” video there as well. Rihanna gave a visual effect to her hit “American Oxygen” first on Tidal, while Prince pulled the plug of his entire discography off all authorized digital platforms, except Tidal. He and Tidal investor Jay Z offer exclusive concerts through the platform, as Dre digitally rolled up his Chronic exclusively for Apple. As the music leaders aim to define their legacies, is it as possible when it only reaches a few?

While Dr. Dre grabbed the spotlight in benchmark fashion, his Aftermath Entertainment artist Kendrick Lamar also had one of 2015’s finer offerings. Lamar’s sophomore major label album, To Pimp A Butterfly was released a week early on March 16 via Spotify. T.P.A.B. broke the previous streaming record, which was held by Drake’s February 2015 release, the If You’re Reading This It’s Too Late mixtape. Both Kendrick and Drake achieved #1 albums on the Top 200, with widespread consumption on a platform with a free option. For artists like Dr. Dre, and his generational peers, subscription-based services are alluring. However, free platforms may be the more viable ticket for this generation’s artists and fans in the clearing dust.

Almost every active, relevant Hip-Hop artist that has come to prominence this decade uses one or more free platforms such as YouTube, Soundcloud, the free version of Spotify and mixtape giant, DatPiff. Still cultivating a retail base, Chance the Rapper is a great example of amassing a following through free music. The Chicago MC released his Acid Rap mixtape on Soundcloud over two years ago. Since then, the Social Experiment member has created his own path without signing to a major label, or asking for fans to purchase his music. Chance has yet to release an LP for sale, but he continues to headline the biggest festivals, and perform with some of music’s biggest acts, like Earth, Wind, & Fire and Kendrick. With his Social Experiment side project, C.T.R. and Donnie Trumpet even used iTunes to release a free album in Surf. If the biggest artist in Hip-Hop without a retail LP and the platform known for digital music commerce are coming together for a freebie, what’s that saying about what is strategically savvy?

Across the Hip-Hop landscape, this appears to be the modus operandi. Remy Boyz front man Fetty Wap received his biggest notoriety from SoundCloud, when his hit “Trap Queen” managed to get an impressive 86 million plays, and reached #2 on the Billboard Hot 100—behind only Wiz Khalifa, an artist who also transformed his career through game-changing mixtapes like Kush & OJ. Revered artists like J. Cole, Big Sean, Curren$y and Big K.R.I.T. also built their bases through similar free releases. Open platforms like Soundcloud and DatPiff really exemplify the power artists have when they release free music to their fan base. Jay Z, who released his 2012 ballad “Glory” on his own Life+Times may have said it best: “Men lie. Women lie. Numbers don’t.”

So, what is best for the artist and what is best for the fan? Are they one-in-the-same? From comments and ratings, to data, free platforms provide communication tools, critical evaluation, and fan-base building all in one. In April when Chance The Rapper spoke at Harvard, he praised these features. “SoundCloud is awesome. It’s an artist’s space, you can upload your music whenever you want. You get the craziest metrics that anybody can offer you: sex, age, region of the world these people live in, a very detailed account of who’s your fan and what they like.” Moreover, copyright holders have to the ability to claim advertising revenue on YouTube and other platforms. Not only are these services convenient and easily accessible for fans, they can be profitable to artists and labels, long after album cycle promotions and working relationships have ceased.

An artist’s work is the outcome of a lot time, dedication, and perfected practice. Certain projects hold a lot of value to musicians, and the creativity and expression of the piece could become popular among the masses. Constant downloading and torrent sharing could have potential of devaluing the music. Producer and MC will.i.am spoke about how free music can hurt the artist. “That’s a very, very, very touchy, touchy, touchy subject that no one’s talking about, as far as technology killing the music industry. Actually, the music industry has been redefined, utilizing the technology, leaving the artist out of the equation,” said the Black Eyed Peas front man.

will, one of the biggest artists of the last 10 years with more than 32 million albums sold, clearly believes that artists should be compensated for their recorded music, as a part owner in Beats By Dre. On the flip-side, acts who receive increased exposure by releasing free music have created more touring opportunities, and many would argue that in all cases, except with respect to mega superstars like will.i.am, Dr. Dre and Jay Z, album sales sustain labels more than artists. MCs such as Chance The Rapper have been able to achieve lifestyles and careers through touring, merchandise, and brand sponsorship, based off of free releases. This may best explain the reason why rappers like Chance stay unsigned, or why veteran artists between labels sustain careers without deals. A label is concerned with the sale of recordings, whether hard copy or digital file. In many cases, the record company owns the legal rights to these recordings, so the sales generate income for the company to make profit. In the new independent model, which applies to many MCs, the artist owns the rights, and shares the content with the people who may value it most.

Whether it is retooling the traditional label model, challenging the pay walls for audio platforms, or releasing free, easily accessible product to the people, the music landscape is still undecided. The recording industry and streaming companies like Apple Music, Spotify, and Tidal are making a big push for paid subscription when it comes to music. The popularity of free sites like YouTube, DatPiff and Soundcloud are proof that the masses want free music—and will support artists in other ways after that trusting bond is built. If history in technology is an indicator, there may soon be a winner.

Additional Reporting by Jake Paine.

Related: What Makes A Hip-Hop Album A Classic? (Editorial)

Vince Staples appears in a Time magazine video that published online yesterday (October 27). In it, the Def Jam Records artist from Long Beach, California was asked to reflect on 1990s pop culture. While admitting that he has never heard an album of Justin Timberlake’s work with N*SYNC or Mel B’s days with the Spice Girls, Staples made some powerful remarks about 1990s Hip-Hop too. In the segment that also discussed President Bill Clinton and Pokemon, Staples told Time, “The ’90s get a lot of credit [and] I don’t really know why. Biggie and Tupac, those are the staples of the ’90s—I think that’s why they get the Golden-Era credit. There’s not a 50 Cent in the ’90s—they didn’t even have a Kanye [West].” Staples, who was born in July, 1993, continued, “The early 2000s is where it’s at. The first song I remember listening to is Lil Bow Wow’s ‘Come Bounce With Me.’ Lil Bow Wow is one of my favorite rappers, ever. You could never take that from me.” The 22 year-old seemingly stressed perspectives in how eras and decades create fans.

Since the video released, a October 28 XXL report prompted Staples and N.O.R.E. (among others) to engage in a social media debate. N.O.R.E.’s career began in the 1990s, thanks to his time in Penalty Records duo Capone-N-Noreaga.

During Sway In The Morning this morning (October 29), Staples called in from his home in Long Beach to clarify his Time remarks, the reporting of those statements. Along the way, he made some truly insightful points about the growing generation gaps, and spreading perspectives in Hip-Hop:

“I definitely do [feel I was misrepresented in a headline, But even if I was not], so what?” began the Summertime ’06 maker and XXL freshman. “Who are we to try to diminish anybody else’s art-form? To me, it’s like, if you don’t feel like the ’90s was the greatest era of Hip-Hop—which isn’t what I said—but if it’s not, then it’s just ‘fuck you’? What if I like the ’80s? What if I like the early 2000s? You sayin’ that nobody else’s art-form matters unless it’s in the ’90s? That’s corny.”

In discussing his point with Sway Calloway, Heather B, and Tracy G, Staples added personal context. “When the ’90s ended, I was six years old. I would hope any parents wouldn’t want their six year-old child or younger listening to music that was carrying the kind of content that was carried in the [artists people are talking about]. My father went to prison for the majority of my life. My mommy a full-fledged gang-banger, bro. So, they was makin’ sure I went to church. They didn’t want me to listen to people talkin’ about shooting people and sellin’ crack, bro.” Vince used NBA basketball to emphasize his point. “I can watch [Michael] Jordan footage all day, but I’m not gonna know what it’s like to watch him in the finals. So if my seven year-old nephew thinks Lebron James is the best basketball player ever, do I tell him, ‘fuck him’ and all the [outcry] that’s been thrown at me?”

Additionally, Staples waved off all notions of beef, especially between he and the Lefrak City, Queens veteran MC. “N.O.R.E. called and apologized, because he didn’t watch the interview. When he watched the interview, he saw there was no harm [intended]. He [initially] thought I was trying to be funny when I told him my favorite N.O.R.E. song that I ever heard came in the 2000s. He said it himself: his biggest hits that he’s had came in the 2000s.”

Perhaps the best point Vince Staples made came late in the nearly 20-minute call: “The thing that makes you love anything artistically or culturally is the experiences you have while you experience the product. So in the sense of…I don’t know what it felt like when [Nas’] ‘NY State Of Mind’ first dropped. But I know what it felt like when [Snoop Dogg’s] ‘Drop It Like It’s Hot’ first dropped or when ‘Crip Hop’ first dropped from Tha Eastsidaz, ’cause that’s what made me want to do what I did with my life. Now do that mean that [one] is better than the other song? Hell no, but that’s my experience with that personal artist.”

Staples continued, “I know every Nas album; I know Nas. You get what I’m sayin’? But if you ask me my favorite Nas song, it’s always gonna be ‘Made You Look,’ ’cause I [remember] when it came out.” As the discussion grew to a general relationship between pioneers and contemporary acts, Vince Staples actually pointed to before the 1970s. “Rap, in general, was ushered in by James Brown and Muddy Waters.” Before leaving, the No I.D.-backed artist restated his original point in the Time video. “I said I don’t know why it’s the Golden Era ’cause I wasn’t around during the era. Did I say anything bad about the music? No.”

This very subject came up in this year’s Ambrosia For Heads “Finding The GOAT” video series. Part 2 of the four-part installment takes a deep look at how perspectives shape overall opinions surrounding the culture, and what we as Hip-Hop Heads deem “great”:

Should Vince Staples’ remarks be upsetting to anybody? Is it refreshing to hear a respected 2015 MC go on record and praise an early 2000s Bow Wow single, earnestly?

Related: Vince Staples Challenges His Comfort Zone with Major Lazer Co-Founder (Audio)