Saying that rap music has a certain preoccupation with violence and death
is a bit like saying that water is wet. It’s on that level of Capt. Obvious-type shit. That said, some tracks the genre has produced (largely in the last 20-odd years; this isn’t really an issue of 80s hip-hop) have a resonance beyond gun talk, or at the very least add some poignance to gun talk. So let’s take a trip through early 90s gangsta and crime-rap classics to some of 2011 and 2012’s best hip-hop, and have some deep thoughts about tragedy, violence, sociological woes and Jesus pieces. (To assist you on this journey, here’s a Spotify playlist of all the songs below.)
Danny Brown, “Die Like a Rockstar”/”30”: Two very different takes on the inevitability of death from the singularly incendiary Danny Brown. The first is sardonic, almost gleeful in its invitation of death. It’s saying, “Come at me, fucker, ain’t like I got shit to lose,” as Brown details his omnivorous drug diet and its likely consequences.
The second is a different animal. It begins with some raunch – “Sent ya bitch a dick pic and now she need glasses” – but quickly devolves into a somber, moving depiction of his imagined death (at the age that gives the song its title). This second envisioning is largely delivered in a voice markedly different from Brown’s trademarked high-yelp (which is only heard early on). Rather, Brown mostly veers between a low dispassionate cadence and a bellow of pure fury. Instead of snidely joking about an overdose, he is raging, raging against the dying of the fucking light. In the process, in spite of his surface nihilism he actually reaffirms his hunger to endure – to find success, purpose, life.
Young Jeezy, “Bury Me a G” – In all honesty, the beat is what gets me about this one – definitely one of J.U.S.T.I.C.E. League’s best productions. That said, Jeezy kills it on this song. Not so much with the lyrics themselves, which are pretty much what you’d expect in a song called “Bury Me a G,” but with his delivery, gritty charisma and relatability. Roger Ebert said that it’s not what a movie’s about, it’s how it’s about it. Similarly, Jeezy makes something memorable and strangely triumphant out of a genre trope and turns it strangely triumphant – almost like a nihilistic “Eye of the Tiger” within its niche. The news-report interlude is also interesting, where the female anchor says it’s unclear whether Jeezy “was the shooter or the victim,” and it (possibly unintentionally) indicts the way criminal incidents among rappers are covered with a subtle contempt.
Wu-Tang Clan, “Tearz” – RZA’s opening verse simply depicts a shooting by the narrator and its get-back on his friend – well-done, but nothing “new” there. Ghostface Killah’s portion of the track, however, puts a then-unprecedented spin on hip-hop’s death narrative. On a faded-wasted night, two guys go at it with the same girl, one wears a condom and one doesn’t, and an AIDS death sentence results for the latter. In 2012, that doesn’t sound groundbreaking. But this song dropped in 1993, when hip-hop (and American pop culture) viewed AIDS as a largely unspeakable topic making its frankness nothing short of astonishing.
Killer Mike, “Untitled” – Another left-turn take on death from one of the game’s largely unsung greats. Unlike many of the other songs here, Killer Mike’s track is more concerned with how others will view his death and legacy, rather than the moment of death itself. “Will my woman be Coretta, take my name and cherish it? Or will she Jackie O, drop the Kennedy, remarry it? My sister says it’s necessary on some Cleopatra shit. My grandmama says, ‘no, never, that is sacrilege.’ Tend to agree because the thought is so disparaging.” I can’t really say more about how evocative those words are. This might be the most uplifting death-centric rap song ever.
2Pac, “If I Die 2Nite” – Like his rival and opposite number Biggie, ‘Pac was death-obsessed in one way or another for most of his career. This track highlights that – as well as Pac’s depth of emotion and staggering way with words, which always tipped the scales in his favor over Big for me, despite being largely partial to the East Coast. Listen to that alliteration in the opening line and throughout the song. It’s ridiculous. All hardcore rappers owe this track a tip of the mic.
Scarface, “No Tears” – Best known to, well, a lot of high school/college kids as the song that the dorky white guy plays loudly in his car until he drives past some black dudes in Office Space. Seriously though, Scarface and the Geto Boys basically invented the ultra-nihilistic gangsta rap that would turn into horrorcore, and “No Tears” is one of the purest distillations of his style. What makes this track stand out is how Scarface describes his vulnerability – the person he plans to kill out of a need for vengeance is the one giving him nightmares. Essentially, whether he intends to or not he indicts the gangsta persona as inherently psychotic. There may be no tears in the end, but there’s no glory either, for the killer or the killed.
Rick Ross feat. Stalley, “Ten Jesus Pieces” – Another alternate take on last words, in that Rozay isn’t egging death on or envisioning its specific moments, but rather wishing to be buried in luxury. In many ways, the opulent but evocative track (J.U.S.T.I.C.E. League again) lends the song more gravitas than it might otherwise deserve, as its lyrics spend most of their time celebrating Ross’s wealth (this is a guy whose best record is the mixtape Rich Forever, so, no surprise there). Like Jeezy, Ross has a commanding presence and vivid eye for detail that push his flaws (the occasional clunky rhyme, a one-track mind for subject matter) into the background.
Beanie Sigel feat. Cam’ron, “Wanted” – This one isn’t specifically about death, but the sense of dread, of no way out, it exudes as it chronicles Beanie’s run from enemies and Feds (a somewhat real one, considering Sigel’s numerous prison stints) plays into the overarching theme of this list. He may not be specifically facing death on the song, but it’s the only likely alternative to prison. So it’s on here, also partially because people don’t give Beanie enough credit. Like, ever. Oh, and there’s an amazing Cam’ron guest spot, because this track is from 2005 and Cam gave those out like free blue tops on Sunday back then.
Waka Flocka Flame, “For My Dawgs” – Musically and lyrically, this is Flocka being uncharacteristically restrained – sort of. While the beat isn’t one of those world-destroying Lex Luger joints behind which he became famous, and there are few of his signature freakouts, this is still 2010 Flocka, before his kindler, gentler 2012 phase. It jumps around from topic to topic, but the point lies in one line – “One lousy-ass bullet can’t fuckin stop me.” This is not the Flocka of Triple F Life who’d begin a track by eating chips in the booth and burping. He pledges a self-destructive loyalty to his partners in crime that matches what you’d expect from an album (Flockaveli) with a cover featuring its artist covered in blood.
Clipse, “Nightmares” – This track closes out Clipse’s 2006 masterpiece Hell Hath No Fury…and provides a welcome respite from the torrent of musical brutality of that album by opening with Bilal’s high notes on the hook and a Booker T.-indebted organ riff. But as soon as Malice starts rapping, it becomes clear that things are no less dark. What differentiates it from the rest of the album is the sense that unlike the prior 11 tracks, “Nightmares” has no sardonic humor, no almost-gleeful talk of drugs and the wealth they bring in. It’s a narrative where the protagonists accept that they are damned, that death and hell are the most likely consequences of their deeds.
Liam Green can be reached at lgreen@thoughtpollution.com.