I guess Weezy is getting mad love these days, and I love the man to death, but I think that while his lyrics are largely devoid of any higher sense of awareness or responsibility to the Black community, Kanye West has always been a beacon of hope in the hip-hop game. Lil Wayne and the rest of those Cash Money rappers always rep the hell out of New Orleans, but where were they when Katrina hit? Kanye at least spoke out, donated money, and he also has the Kanye West Foundation, which facilitates educational opportunities for economically disadvantaged children.
I don’t mean to attack Lil Wayne in particular, but what does he give to the community? How is he using his success positively? As far as I can see, he’s pimping us out. I love Kanye largely because he critiques the glamorization of urban poverty as well as the clash between working class and middle class Black America. Kanye’s words ring true to my experience in a way that other rappers just can’t touch, or at least haven’t tried to touch. Though I think Lil Wayne and his ilk are outrageously talented artists, frankly, I’m getting a little sick of hearing the same empty words about empty wealth. I think that it’s almost a sin for these rappers to be going out and talking about how hard they’re balling in the face of so much devastation and destruction in our communities. Let’s be real: The reason why there’s so much tension in inner-city neighborhoods is not because Black and Brown people are somehow inherently more menacing and evil; it’s a direct result of capitalism and the class tension that is frequently brushed aside or altogether ignored in America. When Jay-Z or Lil Wayne or any of them buy into the same culturally and morally bankrupt values that fuel the White supremacist capitalist patriarchy, they are in effect ignoring their responsibility as public figures to call attention to the problems that plague our communities.
Of course, there has been a little bit of consciousness here and there from mainstream rap artists, but their repertoires as a whole speak to The Almighty Dollar more than they do to any sense of obligation to their people.
Enter Kanye. This verse, from a track called “Never Let Me Down” on his debut album, speaks volumes about his relationship with race as it is lived in America:
I get down for my grandfather who took my momma
Made her sit that seat where white folks ain’t wanna us to eat
At the tender age of 6 she was arrested for the sit in
With that in my blood I was born to be different
Now n—-s can’t make it to ballots to choose leadership
But we can make it to Jacob and to the dealership
That’s why I hear new music
And I just don’t be feeling it
Racism still alive they just be concealing it
But I know they don’t want me in the damn club
They even made me show I.D to get inside of Sam’s club
I did dirt and went to church to get my hands scrubbed
Swear I’ve been baptised at least 3 or 4 times
But in the land where n—-s praise
Yukons and getting paid
It gon’ take a lot more than coupons to get us saved…
Anyone familiar with Kanye’s music will recognize that this song is distinct because Kanye and J. Ivy’s monumental verses about feeling a larger sense of responsibility to the Black community based on their roots and spirituality seem to be completely disjointed from Jay-Z’s particularly haughty and insular bookending flows. However, I contend that this juxtaposition is just one element of Kanye’s sheer brilliance as a producer. I think he’s making a rather nuanced comment about the nature of ego in hip-hop. Though Kanye clearly respects Jay-Z, he also realizes that his style and lyrical content hasn’t really made any positive contributions to hip-hop or the Black community.
However, this verse is nothing short of stunning, especially following Jay-Z’s words. It strikes me as a particularly sincere choice for Kanye to open the verse with a narrative about his mother’s childhood, but I also like that he acknowledges his duty to be different because of that history. Whereas by the end of this song, Jay-Z claims to be God, the Pope, Michael Jordan, Jeff Gordon and the Eighth Wonder of the World, Kanye strives hard to be humble by positioning himself as a human-size figure within a much broader historical and spiritual context; he even goes as far as performing only one-quarter of the verses in this song.
I could go on and on about how Kanye is much more than you think he is, but think about that for a moment, then listen to The College Dropout, which can say a lot more in just over 75 minutes than I can in writing this.
