INDEX

DMX was that kind of hero. The wild dog from Yonkers, an undeniable rap legend of the turn of the millennium, the uncrowned king of New York, and a preacher locked in a constant, inner battle between good and evil. DMX was the guy who wasn’t afraid to cry—whether on stage or in a TV studio. He was also the guy who, if you found yourself in the wrong place at the wrong time, might’ve robbed you of your last dollar, all while setting a stolen pit bull on you. Honestly, if something like that ever happened to me, I’d probably straight-up lose control of both my bladder and my bowels on the spot. But hey, I’m just a broke white dude living in a quiet little country in Western Europe.

Now, we could argue all day about which Redman album from the '90s is the GOAT. Hardcore fans of the rawer sound will probably ride for his debut, Whut? Thee Album with the insane "Tonight’s da Night." A lot of folks might lean toward Dare Iz a Darkside or Muddy Waters. Tough call. Honestly. I think I’m in that second camp too. Dare Iz a Darkside holds a special place for me. Damn, it’s hard to pick one. I’d take anything from Dare Iz a Darkside to Malpractice without hesitation. But today’s post is about Doc’s da Name 2000—mainly because of the nostalgia tied to that epic video for "I’ll Be Dat!" And honestly? Doc’s da Name 2000—no matter where it ranks in my personal lineup—is a damn good album!

What came out of it? A steamroller. A steamroller that ran over me countless times. Every time I play this album, I hear the roar of a powerful engine behind me, and I know it's already coming for me. So why do I do it? Because it's worth it. Tha Dogg Pound is killing it and taking no prisoners. I could loop tracks 1 through 11 indefinitely. It's a massive energy dose. Alright, but why only 1 through 11 if it's so good? Well, there seems to be a bit of a shortage of fuel or ideas on how to piece it all together. The album could have ended at track 11. It's too long, and after "Do What I Feel", the level drops. Although it's not a very steep drop, the first half (fortunately the larger one) is so phenomenal that I lack the patience for the second half. Maybe not everything turned out exactly as it should. Supposedly, the song "Can't C Me" by 2Pac and George Clinton was originally supposed to be on Dogg Food and end up in the second half. A bit of a shame and a bit not. After all, it's a very good song and an important element of All Eyez on Me, the opus magnum of 2Pac's short career. 2Pac was calling the shots after joining Death Row.

So I dove in and got lost. This is so atmospheric. One of my favorite albums from the mid-'90s. I'm loving what Mr. Cheeks, the author of the majority of the rhymes, is doing. He could be considered the frontman of the group. I read some reviews of this album. In many cases, Mr. Cheeks was praised, but with a note that he's not a top-tier rapper, as if the reviewers were afraid to say that it's different, or it could be different. I don't know what to think about that; I agree a bit and disagree a bit. Sure, he's not on the level of Nas, Biggie, or Big L, but so what? The guy is awesome, and his rap makes you not only pay attention to not fall off your chair but also to avoid twisting your neck. It's rocking like that.

2Pac. War and peace in one body. Love and hatred in one heart. Fire and water in one mind. From "Keep Ya Head Up" to "Hit 'Em Up." I agree with most that it's his most honest album in his body of work. The most honest when you consider the kind of person he was, could be, and ultimately became after his release from prison when he joined Death Row. It's hard to characterize someone who only lived for 25 years. I'm 41, and from my perspective and the perspective of personal growth, a quarter of a century is a stage where the brain has just formed. How can someone experience so much at such an age and become who 2Pac became? He had a larger-than-life presence in many dimensions.

Over these 50 years, few have influenced hip-hop like Nas, and half a century is certainly an impressive span. Born on September 14, 1973, in New York City as Nasir bin Olu Dara Jones, he emerged as a genius. His debut album, Illmatic from 1994, remains for me and many others the best rap album in the history of the genre. I dare say I'm lucky. Illmatic debuted in the year I personally discovered and fell in love with rap. For nearly three decades, I've had the pleasure of savoring Nas's work, who has been my companion on this journey through time. Despite a few less successful moments, many of his pieces proudly reside in my collection. Among them is It Was Written, the number one in the artist's discography, the focus of this post.

This album not only solidifies Rakim's status as a legend but also reflects the overall state of American rap during that period. A lot was happening then. It was the golden era (in my opinion and that of millions of others) in the fifty-year history of hip-hop culture. Since the early 90s, many legendary albums were released, recognized as milestones in the genre. At the same time, the dust had just settled from the East Coast vs. West Coast feud. We lost 2Pac and Biggie, and rap entered the mainstream. Looking back, "The 18th Letter" stylistically fits perfectly into that narrative. It's just a "Classic" as The R once rapped alongside Nas and KRS-One to DJ Premier's beats. The guy who doesn't swear returned. The kind of artist who many considered and still consider one of the best MCs. The type who was and is an idol of idols (remember Nas's U.B.R.?).

he more brutal he was, the bigger his star grew. The more people he dragged through the mud, the more loyal fans he gained. The Predator skyrocketed Ice Cube to an unbelievable level. A dude from the ghetto scored two number ones on the Billboard charts and became a Hollywood actor. And it was on this album that "It Was a Good Day" appeared. Probably the most well-known track of his career—a legend now, a part of pop culture history, sung by aging (brilliant) grandpas in bad movies. The track also marked a slight change in the winds. The rap star, the voice of South Central, the former N.W.A. member, whether he liked it or not, had become a pop star.