What up, what up.  I recently read the following ‘Letter from the Editor’ in this month’s issue of Vibe and found that it has stuck with me the last few days - so much so that I thought I would share with the Muffin.  I don’t know why I keep coming back to this but there are definitely parts of it that resonate with my inner beathead. Take a read of the letter and enjoy the mini playlist it inspired below:

“Real rap, to start with, is actually hip hop. Real rap is Chuck D and his Public Enemy live at the Shoreline Amphitheatre in Mountain View, Calif.—in 1990. Real rap is seeing early, in the Island Def Jam offices, the video for the remix of The-Dream’s “Rockin’ That Shit,” bursting with a legion of masterful Def Jam MCs (shout-out to Fab). Real rap is always wanting to hear Ludacris. Real rap is still hoping, foolishly, for the return of Mase. Real rap is finally becoming a student of Cam’Ron’s lyrics and flow—in 2008. Real rap is respecting Flo Rida because you still ride for MC Hammer. Real rap is waiting for T.I. to go in and to get out. Real rap wants Drake to blow up, wants Kid Cudi to take over, wants Asher to be the real thing, wants The Roots to be as super-famous as they are respected. If real rap had a Facebook page, its relationship status—Jay and Beyoncé and Nas and Kelis  notwithstanding—would be “complicated.” Real rap is almost crying every time you hear “Closer,” the Charles Hamilton song featuring MC Lyte. The two generations, the two genders, the accidental quality of the song, the beat of hip hop pumping through big and generous hearts.

Real rap is fighting and talking ish and making decisions like you’re always in a battle, even when you’re not—and especially when you are. Being an adult product of real rap means taking peoples’ every move personally, even, and maybe especially, when it’s “just business.” Real rap is calling people “fam” and “son,” and meaning it. Real rap respects and elevates “the grind.” Sometimes real rap is “first.” Always, real rap is best.

Real rap doesn’t get enough credit for being normal. Nor does it always want the credit for being inspirational (listen to almost any DJ Khaled song). Real rap is home: It’s shouting, by heart, every line in DJ Quik’s 1991 “Born and Raised in Compton,” and subbing in the word Oakland for Quik’s hometown. Real rap is big money, big cars, big jewels, a big chill attitude, and often no safe home to go to once you get them. Real rap is meeting The Notorious B.I.G. the very day he dies. Real rap is being on a houseboat with Digital Underground and hearing Tupac Shakur recite the lyrics to “Brenda’s Got A Baby,” thinking it’s weird, and fly, and then reading the lyrics off his pad. Real rap is, crazily, not immediately running scared at a show when someone yells, “Knife!” Real rap is rocking a lanyard with a laminated pass that says: all access Jay-Z/Mary J. Blige heart of the city Madison Square Garden—and acting like it’s no big deal, when, even after many years in the game, it in fact is.

The difference between real rap and wack rap is in the heart of every human blessed enough to have heard it, to have loved it, to have questioned it, to have tried to revive it, to have left it, with sorrow or with rage, for dead. The difference, for me, is heart. Real rap has it. Everything else is built for the fast-forward, is miles short of hip hop, belongs in the kind of free bin that existed before artists were giving away their music for free.

Real rap always wants to double down and win big. It comes in like a lion, goes out never, and never softly. Real rap is Eminem’s “Mosh,” his “Like Toy Soldiers,” his loyalty to 50 and Dr. Dre and Proof, his return to the game after five long years. Real rap is a place where truth rhymes with lie, where hate so often punks love, where the boys and girls of yesterday became the hopeful cynics of today. Real rap is now where parents bond with their children, where the stifled, creative, and desperate—if they’re purposeful and wise—go from thugz to men. Real rap is the virtuoso voice, the massive myth, the ugly scenario, the amazing, almost embarrassing love affair we pass on to those who were conceived, who came into being to the beats of Busta Rhymes and DMX, Mos Def and Talib Kweli, Big Pun and the rest.

It’s a tough world, real rap—an extremely boss little game. Anybody can get in, true. But it’s always been hardball. The small and precious part of me that’s not very Real Rap allows me to advise you: Play at your own risk.”  - Danyel Smith, Editor-In-Chief

2pac - Drunk freestyle

Blackstar - Definition

Charles Hamilton - Closer ft. MC Lyte

Nas - Made You Look (remix) ft. Ludacris & Jadakiss

Eminem - Rhymin’ Words freestyle

Method Man - You’re All I Need ft. Mary J. Blige

Drake - Let’s Call The Whole Thing Off

Jay-Z - Dear Summer