A few days ago, I was reading the new issue of XXL magazine, and just like many of the readers of websites that also reported it [click here], I was shocked, if not pensive to read that Snoop Dogg has enlisted writers for his latest lyrics. When you think about it, it made perfect sense, that the O.G., an avid smoker of greens, didn’t actually pen the cigarette-smoking endorsement in “Sexual Seduction.” Instead, it was longtime Young Jeezy producer (and perhaps songwriter) Shawty Redd, who even in his Scratch magazine layout last year, was pictured puffin’ on a cancer stick. All tobacco mentionables aside, it’s hard to believe that the same man that astounded us with his seemingly improvisational dopeness on “Pump, Pump” and “Stranded on Death Row” would ever pay for any others’ lyrics. Then again, in this modern man’s hustle of rap music, who could blame him? Vh1’s reality show, which I have not yet watched, will likely garner the godfather more gwap than Ego Trippin’ scans are projected to. It’s a sad state of affairs.
My thoughts led me further. As Snoop Dogg gets a pass for paying for writers, why are we so critical of Fat Joe? Firstly, Fat Joe has yet to come forward and admit this longstanding rumor. Secondly, many of the very reasons bloggers, self-proclaimed critics and street conversations have skewed the “fat gangster” simply don’t seem to matter in the context of the braided coastal counterpart.
Let me come right out and say it – I truly respect the work of Fat Joe. In my carefully manicured CD, tape and record collection, I own more Fat Joe material than Big Pun’s, not de facto, but apparent of taste. Fat Joe has had the chance to evolve, as an artist, as a person, a businessman, and certainly our criticisms and commerce has had a heavy hand in molding him.
In my recent interview with Joe [click here], I chose to look more at that man’s accomplishments than his perceived failures. A lifelong follower of the almighty Diggin’ In The Crates crew, Fat Joe has remained one of the most versatile artists in the game. Though I doubt I can change anyone’s mind per se, allow me to at least offer a defense of the man who rarely gets a chance to address his critics.
It was around the time of the 1-9-9-9, and your boy was in high school, learning much more about A.G. than algebra; with an issue of Ego Trip faithfully tucked within my textbooks to read in class. At that time, our school’s deejay du jour, DJ Teknikz had made a tape, which included a lot of talent, but truly opened me up to the artistry of Fat Joe. Previous to this, I’d given the man a nod through his cameo verses with Pun and The Beatnuts, but never took the train past that stop. Tucked between a blend of Eazy E/Usher blend and an OutKast remix (that I still need to digitize), Nik snuck in “Envy” from the least known of Joe’s albums. Perhaps the epitome of the Diddy-sample/cover era, the “Sexual Healing” redux had hard, tangible lyrics that allowed me to look at Joe as more than Big Pun’s video accomplice, but as a talented emcee in his own right. The ensuing D.I.T.C. album on Tommy Boy only added to that, mesmerizing me that the same man who would make “What’s Luv” later that year, could be embraced and attached to Lord Finesse, O.C. and Diamond D, three of my heroes.
Speaking of D.I.T.C., nearly 10 years later, the education continued. For as much as I love Joe’s 1993 debut for its attitude and booming beats, I simply thought that it started there. Last year, Jazzy Jay and the good people at Traffic Entertainment showed me otherwise. Intended to be released circa 1988-1988, The Ultimate Force finally released I’m Not Playin’ [click here] last year. Backed by the coveted single of the same name, the duo of Master Rob and Diamond D welcomed their neighbor from the Forrest Projects to appear on the song “Oh Shit.” Yup, a teenage Fat Joe was getting it in a la Jay-Z on “Hawaiian Sophie” over five years before he actually did. The whole album is an outstanding walk back in time, but it only continued in my on-going appreciation for the one of the only rappers still holding down Hip Hop’s birthplace in the mainstream today.
Then there was 2003. One of the moments I’ll forever hold in my heart from my dealings in this game was attending The Zulu Nation 30th Anniversary at SOB’s in New York. Seeing the Soulsonic Force live was incredible. Watching D.I.T.C. form like Voltron was life-changing. However, one of the most tangible moments in my “beers and bullshit” storytelling was watching Fat Joe enter the place. Draped in his signature iced-out Terror Squad medallion, surrounded by henchmen that looked like caricatures from a Rockstar video game, Joe entered the party, gave pounds to the roughnecks, and b-lined for the microphone. Joey Crack kicked freestyles alongside KRS-ONE, Jeru Da Damaja and his D.I.T.C. brethren with Roc Raida on the cut for over 30 minutes. If he had a ghostwriter that night, he had a good one, because the god murdered the microphone, and undoubtedly won over a skeptical crowd.
Granted, the albums since Relativity folded haven’t been what I wished they were. Then again, would Fat Joe really trade street respect to be in a Joell Ortiz predicament? Instead, he’s made it work for him. The same way that LL Cool J lost the Kangol for the baby oil on Mr. Smith with huge hits like “Loungin’” and “Doin’ It,” he tucked away “I Shot Ya Remix” (which Fat Joe appeared on) to remind of his rugged roots. Has Fat Joe not done the same? Is “Safe 2 Say” or “That White” not hard as nails? Would these not fit firmly in the catalogue we would make if Rhino Records paid any one of us $10,000 to assemble a “Greatest Hits” for the Bronx-bomber? I beg to argue so. The difference is radio deejays, which waves criticism more to Joe’s friend DJ Khaled and those like him than any iced-out rapper getting heavy airplay in his upper-thirties.
Fat Joe’s business dealings have left him criticized extensively when the microphone is off. I don’t believe it’s been Fat Joe’s intention in the least to profit from Big Pun’s passing. As I watch countless southern rappers big up Soulja Slim, I’m often angered that his legacy has become a street badge in a culture of people who, for the most part, don’t know Slim from Mac, Fiend or Mr. Serv-On (who Fat Joe and Big Pun collaborated with). Joe has rarely exploited Big Pun’s passing, in my eyes, but rather, the media has painted him that way. Just as Lord Finesse coached Big L into the greatest freestyle rapper of all-times with a similar lyrical timing and wit, Fat Joe and Big Pun had the protégé/mentor relationship. Just like Ice Cube and Mack 10 (who Fat Joe has also worked with). Just like T.I. and Young Dro.
Per Cuban Link, Remy Ma and the rest of Terror Squad, I do and don’t believe the hype. Honestly, I don’t care. I have faith that Remy Ma will get her opportunity, and Cuban Link his. The only disdain I have with Terror Squad, as a rap fan, is when Fat Joe announced that he was releasing a DJ Premier album on Rap City way back when. That, and that alone would have brought me out of the house on a Tuesday. The rest, “I like what I like, that don’t mean that I’m hatin’.”
I root for the underdogs. I’ve been a Pittsburgh Pirates fan my whole life, and I’ve carried that attitude into my Hip Hop music. I’ve got a deeply woven respect for 50 Cent, another gentlemen of the game who suffers too much of the same media scrutiny and label grooming that Joe’s endured. To be blunt, I give a fuck about this on-going beef. I didn’t in 2004, and I damn sure won’t now. That’s for you fickle-asses needing something to talk about while the coffee gets stale at work or you’re waiting for recess in middle school. Beefs don’t impress me, and I feel that too many of us have thrown Joe under Mistah F.A.B.’s yellow bus simply because we felt we were forced to make a choice. In actuality, I do recall 50 Cent shooting the first shot. Fat Joe simply seems to have kept dodging the punches better than any of us expected, myself included – or perhaps even D-Block, which on paper, looked like a more interesting lyrical brawl.
I am continuously impressed by Fat Joe because he’s a gentleman in this game. Although I’m perplexed how he went from a graffiti writer in The Bronx named “Joe Crack” to a Miami-based Scarface impresario supposedly selling it, even my beloved Tupac Shakur took as big of leaps in his own hubris bravado. This is a man who can evolve with the trends, all-be-them unsavory, and still channel back to his old self. Would Snoop be able to put the “Doggy” as easily back into his style as Joe transforms on Gang Starr’s 2003 parting-shot “Who Got Gunz” or before a SOB’s crowd? This is a man who, on the same label as Bizzy Bone and Rasheeda, has been able to occupy airtime with a limited budget. Is “I Won’t Tell” brilliant art? Hardly, but the record is a hit without the help of Akon or T-Pain, something that 65% of today’s other artists are seemingly incapable of. At the time when New York was popping, like Jay-Z, he was one of the few who extended a helping hand to the south, the west, the veterans and the hungry come-uppers.
As somebody who makes his living in the position of tearing down rap stars, I’m tired of it. Maybe I’m just industry, and drank the Kool-Aid with the mountain-climbing A&Rs. I choose not to believe so. Rather, I’m a bit sick of the opinions that anybody who changes up is selling out. We rejoiced when our underground darling Eminem got a deal with Dr. Dre and started making anthems, not just songs. We understood it when Jay-Z sold five million, and didn’t rhyme like Common since. We overlooked Biggie’s decision to make ballads over street raps on his second album. However, when it comes to Fat Joe, y’all want to hate? Say goodnight to the bad guy. I will buy The Elephant in The Room [click here to preview] today. I said it, with my byline in full view. And there’s a pretty good chance in a month, I might flip it to a pawn shop or Amazon for some out of print MC Ren tape or a Y’all So Stupid CD just to be pretentious, but then again, one of the biggest Fat Joe haters will probably scoop it up just for “ammo” (closet fascination). There ain’t nothin’ wrong with some meaty hate and lively criticism, but I strongly urge a level playing-field and better targets. Make it rain.
