by Jay-Z
I didn’t just give him the verse, which I’d already composed. After all, I had no idea if he could pull it off. First there was a test. I collared him and said, “Look, I’m making an album and you can be on it, but you have to learn this song in twenty-four hours. You don’t learn it, then you’re not on it.” He took the paper I handed him and looked it over. I’d written the verse down for him in some chicken scratch, and when he held it up, I could tell he was thinking, Shit, I can’t hardly read this. But he took it and went home.
He came to my apartment the next day and spit the whole thing like he’d been doing it his whole life. That same day we went over to the producer Clark Kent’s house, where Clark had a basement studio. When we got there, I ordered food for everyone. I asked Bleek what he wanted and he sort of casually ordered six bacon cheeseburgers. I looked at this kid, and back then Bleek was a thin dude, and I was like, Word? I’m thinking he’s trying to take advantage of me. But I went ahead and ordered them, and when they came, I sat the bag in front of Bleek and told him to get busy because I was going to make sure he ate all six of them. As he unwrapped the first burger I was thinking that the stomachache he was about to have would be lesson number one for this little nigga: Don’t take advantage of people’s kindness. But Bleek wasn’t paying me any mind. He hunched over those wrappers and ate every single one of those burgers and was like, Bet, let’s get to the booth. He was hungry. And nervous.
These little tests I gave Bleek had a direct parallel in the lyrics to the song I’d given him. It was called “Coming of Age,” and the key line is when my character in the song offers Bleek a thousand dollars to ride around the hood. He replies A G? / I ride witchu for free / I want the long-term riches. He passes the test by showing that he’s down to learn and is already thinking about the bigger picture rather than coming for a handout.
AND EVEN IF I DIE HE’S IN MY WILL SOMEWHERE
For my third album, I decided to come back to the story of the two characters from “Coming of Age.” By the time we get to “Coming of Age (Da Sequel),” the dynamic is a little different. This kid you recruited to be a member of your team now wants to be the star player. He’s got a little crew of his own, and people are telling him he should be the boss, that he should take you out. The first verses of the song, when so much of the action happens, are all written as internal thoughts. The words we’re rapping are unspoken. It’s a conversation that’s happening in the two characters’ heads. But that’s real life. The person that betrays you won’t yell out his plans to turn on you—but he might think them so loud you can practically hear it.
I’d seen this kind of thing happen in the streets a million times—people set brothers against each other by feeding poison to the less experienced one. But it happens all over, not just in the streets. In fact, the inspiration for coming back to the “Coming of Age” story was what was happening with Bleek in real life. Just like the character in the song, after the original song Bleek got a little fame in the hood. He built up a following of chicks in Marcy and started feeling himself—which is understandable. But then it came time to record the next album. I made plans to meet Bleek at the studio to work on some new material and he didn’t show. I called his house and his moms told me he wasn’t feeling well. Now this was the same kid who ate six bacon cheeseburgers without blinking. I wasn’t buying it.
So I broke down to the projects and knocked on his door. His moms cracked it open.
“Hey, Val, what’s up? Where’s Bleek?”
She just pointed to the back of the apartment and told me, “Go get him.” I knocked on his bedroom door, and he was in there with some chick. And that was it for me. I told him, “Look, you want to be here? Be here.” And I left. He called later about the tour and I told him, “What tour?” He asked about the new album and I was like, “What new album?” I cut him off. He’d forgotten why I put him on in the first place. I loved his hunger. But he got full real quick.
Bleek was still just a kid and took the lesson like a man. And when it came time for album number three, he was back, and after that he launched his own career. Today he’s running his own label—and still touring with me. I can’t even count the times over the years niggas have tried to bait Bleek into a battle with me about his position. They don’t see the respect I have for him or the strength of character it takes for him to play a supporting role while he’s also trying to build his own thing. Bleek has turned out to be one of the most secure guys I’ve met or done business with, which is ironic, given that he started off being the youngest.
When people say hustling is easy money they couldn’t be more wrong. Paranoia and fear worm their way into every interaction you have. When somebody says hi to you, you can’t just say hi back and keep it moving. You have to watch the person’s body language, silently speculate about their intent. Was it too enthusiastic and artificial? Was it reticent, a way of pulling away? Most important, is he working with the cops? It can wear you down.
The second “Coming of Age” song is meant to reflect the constant internal cycling that’s never spoken and the intense way we analyze each other, with even slight body language serving as a life-or-death clue. It’s also meant to capture the power of brotherhood: They say that soldiers in armies don’t fight for the cause, they fight for each other, and that’s the same motivation for a lot of kids in the streets. Of course, just like in war, older guys use that kind of loyalty as a way to exploit the kids working for them. But I wanted to show how easily young guys are drawn into that life and into danger—from the almost pathetic eagerness to become a hood star in the first song to the weed-and-peer-pressure ambition of the second. It’s easy to get in, and to get deeper and deeper, but like the lyric says, till death do us part. In the end it’s a song about mutual loyalty, a rare thing on the streets, and just as rare off of them.
COMING OF AGE / FEATURING MEMPHIS BLEEK
[Jay-Z] Yeah … / Come experience … life as we know it / As some of you should know it, yeah, yeah / Place, Marcy, Brooklyn / Actions … well, y’all know the actions / Uhh, I got this shorty on my block always clockin my rocks1 / He likes the style and profile I think he wanna mock / He likes the way I walk, he sees my money talkin / the honies hawkin I’m the hottest nigga2 in New York and / I see his hunger pains, I know his blood boils3 / He wanna run with me, I know this kid’ll be loyal / I watched him make a few ends, to cop his little sneakers and gear / then it’s just enough for re-up again4 / I see myself in his eyes, I moved from Levi’s / to Guess to Versace, now it’s diamonds like Liberace / That’s just the natural cycle, nobody wanna be like Michael / where I’m from, just them niggaz who bounced5 from a gun / We out here trying to make hard white into cohhhhld green / I can help shorty blow out like Afro-Sheen / Plus I can relive my days of youth which is gone / That little nigga’s peeps, it’s time to put him on / [Jay-Z and Memphis Bleek] It’s time to come up (and hold my own weight, defend my crown) / Gots to lock it down and when they rush (stand my ground) / It’s time to come up (stick up my chest, and make some loot) / Gots to lock it down and when they rush (stand on my own two) / [Memphis Bleek] I’m out here slingin6 bringin the drama, tryin to come up / in the game and add a couple of dollar signs to my name / I’m out here servin7 disturbin the peace, life could be better / like my man reclined in plush leather seats / He’s sellin weight, I’m sellin eight … balls / sixteen tryin to graduate to pushin quarters y’all / I ain’t gon’ sweat him I’ma let him come to me / If he give me the nod then these niggaz gon’ see / I’m tired of bein out here round the clock / and breakin day, and chasin crackheads up the block for my pay8 / I’m stayin fresh, so chickens check / I’m tryin to step up to the next level, pushin Vettes to the Jets / Diamonds reflect from the sun, directly in your equilibirum / is stunned I’m waitin for my day to come / I got the urge to splurge, I don’t wanna lifetime sentence / just give me the word9 [JZ] Hey fella I been watchin you clockin / [MB] Who me holdin down this block it ain’t nothin10 / You the man nigga now s
top frontin / [JZ] Hahahh I like your style / [MB] Nah, I like YO’ style / [JZ]Let’s drive around awhile / [MB] Cool nigga / [JZ] Here’s a thou’ / [MB]A G? I ride witchu for free / I want the long-term riches and bitches11 / [JZ]Hold up; now listen to me / You let them other niggaz get the name, skip the fame / Ten thou’ or a hundred G keep yo’ shit the same12 / [MB] On the low? / [JZ] Yeah, the only way to blow / You let your shit bubble quietly / [MB] AND THEN YOU BLOW! / [JZ] Hey keep your cool / The only way to peep a fool is let him show his hand / Then you play your cards / [MB] Then he through dealin, I understand / [JZ] Don’t blow your dough on hotties / [MB] The only thing I got in this world is my word and my nuts / and won’t break em for nobody!13 [JZ] Hah, I like your résumé, pick a day, you can start [MB] From now until death do us part …14
COMING OF AGE (DA SEQUEL) / FEATURING MEMPHIS BLEEK
[Jay-Z] Uh-huh uh yeah, gi-gi-geyeah / Time to come up, hold my own weight, defend my crown / Gots to lock it down and when they rush—part two / [MB] Cocaine whiter now / [JZ] Operation is sweet / [MB] Whole game tighter now / [JZ] Movin a brick a week / [MB] Plus a nigga price is down / [JZ] We them niggaz to see / [MB] Time to start the arisin now / [JZ] I don’t know what’s wrong with Bleek / [Jay-Z] It seems I’m like Keenan, pickin up on the vibe1 / that he ain’t too happy, I could just see it in his eyes / I don’t know if it’s the chicks or how we dividin the loot / Time to pay his ass a visit ’fore he decide to get cute / Jumped out like a star with the flyest car / Matchin the gator shirt, softer than my next door neighbors2 / These young niggaz think I fell out the loop / cause the last time they seen me hoppin out the Coupe / I hopped out in a suit / [Memphis Bleek] Look at this nigga Jay frontin tryin to take my shine / I didn’t say this verbally, just had some shit on my mind3 / Plus I’m puffin like an ounce, more than I used to puff / Takin advice from these niggaz but they ain’t used to stuff4 / They had me thinkin, “Shit, I’m the one that moved the stuff / while he drive around town in brand new Coupes and stuff” / Swear to God, they had me practically hatin his guts / As he approached I spoke, “Jigga whattup?” / [Memphis Bleek] I done came up (uhh) put my life on the line (uhh)5 / Soaked the game up (yeah) now it’s my time to shine / Time to change up (what?) no more second in line / Nine-eight, these streets is mine (uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh-uh-huh-uh-huh) / [Jay-Z] Look at that fake smile he just gave me, it’s breakin my heart / Should I school him or pull the tools out and just break6 him apart / I felt his hatred it was harsh, ’fore this fakin shit start / I should take him in back of the building and blaze7 him / [Memphis Bleek] Uh-oh, this nigga Jay he ain’t slow, he musta picked up on the vibe / and had I not been so high I woulda been able to hide / Tried to cover up myself, as I gave him a five / Hugged him, as if I loved him / [Jay-Z] To the naked eye / It woulda seemed we was the closest, but to those that know us / could see that somethin8 was about to go down / [Memphis Bleek] Stay focused / I’m tryin to concentrate, but it’s like he’s reading my mind / As if he can see through this fog and all this weed in my mind9 / Could he see I had plans on, bein the man / Ever since we first spoke and he put that G in my hand10 / And I gave it back to show him, I was down for the cause / As he approached (“Whattup Bleek?”) and I paused … / [Chorus: Memphis Bleek and Jay-Z] / [Jay-Z] Right, yo we wild out in Vegas, styled on haters / Mouthed off at the cops, I done crammed in every drop / Copped whips the same color, we tighter than brothers11 / with different fathers but same mothers, this life don’t love us / So till death do us,12 I’m never breakin my bond / Nigga we Lex movers, V-12 pushers / [Memphis Bleek] / As I stand / One leg of my pants up, in a stance like, “And what?” / I know these niggaz are feedin my mind cancer / But in time’s the answer / Seems mind-blowin, this weed and Hennessey / Got my mind goin, trust me nigga, I’m knowin / Chicks used to ignore me, in my ear sayin I need fifty / not sixty-forty / [Jay-Z] / Oh God, don’t let him control y’all / Your gun is my gun, your clip is my clip baby13 / [Memphis Bleek] Your fun is my fun (uh-huh) your bitch is my bitch / Any nigga tryin to harm Jay I’m feelin for you / I ain’t only touchin you, I’m killin your crew / [Jay-Z] / Give it a year, you’ll be sittin on a million or two / records sold nigga,14 perfect your roll
D’EVILS
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We All Have Nothing. (1:31)
This shit is wicked on these mean streets / None of my friends speak / We’re all trying to win,1 but then again / Maybe it’s for the best though, ’cause when they’re seeing too much / You know they’re trying to get you touched / Whoever said illegal was the easy way out couldn’t understand the mechanics2 / And the workings of the underworld, granted / Nine to five is how you survive, I ain’t trying to survive / I’m trying to live it to the limit and love it a lot3 / Life ills, poison my body / I used to say “fuck mic skills,”4 and never prayed to God, I prayed to / Gotti5 / That’s right it’s wicked, that’s life I live it / Ain’t asking for forgiveness for my sins, ends6 / I break bread with the late heads, picking their brains for angles on / all the evils that the game’ll do / It gets dangerous, money and power is changing us / And now we’re lethal, infected with D’Evils …7 / We used to fight for building blocks / Now we fight for blocks with buildings that make a killing8 / The closest of friends when we first started / But grew apart as the money grew, and soon grew blackhearted / Thinking back when we first learned to use rubbers / He never learned so in turn I’m kidnapping his baby’s mother9 / My hand around her collar, feeding her cheese10 / She said the taste of dollars was shitty so I fed her fifties / About his whereabouts I wasn’t convinced / I kept feeding her money till her shit started to make sense11 / Who could ever foresee, we used to stay up all night at slumber parties / now I’m trying to rock this bitch to sleep12 / All the years we were real close / Now I see his fears through her tears, know she’s wishing we were still / close / Don’t cry, it is to be / In time, I’ll take away your miseries and make it mine, D’Evils …13 / My flesh, no nigga could test / My soul is possessed by D’Evils in the form of diamonds and Lexuses / The exorcist got me doing sticks like / Homie, you don’t know me, but the whole world owe me / Strip!14 / Was thought to be a pleasant guy all my fucking life / So now I’m down for whatever, ain’t nothing nice / Throughout my junior high years it was all friendly / But now this higher learning got the Remy in me / Liquors invaded my kidneys / Got me ready to lick off, mama forgive me / I can’t be held accountable, D’Evils beating me down, boo / Got me running with guys, making G’s, telling lies that sound true / Come test me, I never cower / For the love of money, son, I’m giving lead showers / Stop screaming, you know the demon said it’s best to die / And even if Jehovah witness, bet he’ll never testify, D’Evils …15
Hip-hop has always been controversial, and for good reason. When you watch a children’s show and they’ve got a muppet rapping about the alphabet, it’s cool, but it’s not really hip-hop. The music is meant to be provocative—which doesn’t mean it’s necessarily obnoxious, but it is (mostly) confrontational, and more than that, it’s dense with multiple meanings. Great rap should have all kinds of unresolved layers that you don’t necessarily figure out the first time you listen to it. Instead it plants dissonance in your head. You can enjoy a song that knocks in the club or has witty punch lines the first time you hear it. But great rap retains mystery. It leaves shit rattling around in your head that won’t make sense till the fifth or sixth time through. It challenges you.
Which is the other reason hip-hop is controversial: People don’t bother trying to get it. The problem isn’t in the rap or the rapper or the culture. The problem is that so many people don’t even know how to listen to the music.
ART WITH NO EASEL
Since rap is poetry, and a good MC is a good poet, you can’t just half-listen to a song once and think you’ve got it. Here’s what I mean: A poet’s mission is to make words do more work than they normally
do, to make them work on more than one level. For instance, a poet makes words work sonically—as sounds, as music. Hip-hop tracks have traditionally been heavy on the beats, light on melody, but some MCs—Bone Thugs ’N Harmony, for example—find ways to work melodies into the rapping. Other MCs—think about Run from Run-DMC—turn words into percussion: cool chief rocka, I don’t drink vodka, but keep a bag of cheeba inside my locka. The words themselves don’t mean much, but he snaps those clipped syllables out like drumbeats, bap bap bapbap. It’s as exciting as watching a middleweight throw a perfect combination. If you listened to that joint and came away thinking it was a simple rhyme about holding weed in a gym locker, you’d be reading it wrong: The point of those bars is to bang out a rhythmic idea, not to impress you with the literal meaning of the words.
But great MCing is not just about filling in the meter of the song with rhythm and melody. The other ways that poets make words work is by giving them layers of meaning, so you can use them to get at complicated truths in a way that straightforward storytelling fails to do. The words you use can be read a dozen different ways: They can be funny and serious. They can be symbolic and literal. They can be nakedly obvious and subliminally effective at the same time. The art of rap is deceptive. It seems so straightforward and personal and real that people read it completely literally, as raw testimony or autobiography. And sometimes the words we use, nigga, bitch, motherfucker, and the violence of the images overwhelms some listeners. It’s all white noise to them till they hear a bitch or a nigga and then they run off yelling “See!” and feel vindicated in their narrow conception of what the music is about. But that would be like listening to Maya Angelou and ignoring everything until you heard her drop a line about drinking or sleeping with someone’s husband and then dismissing her as an alcoholic adulterer.