lthough he has produced beats for many of the biggest names in the game, DJ Premier’s deepest and longest-lasting partnership was with the rapper Guru under the name Gang Starr. They debuted with No More Mr. Nice Guy (1989) and followed it with Step in the Arena (1990). The second album’s title track elaborates on the concept of rap as a battle. Moving through a medieval British world to the Coliseum of ancient Rome, the song ends in an arena of another sort, a place we buy tickets to enter to hear rhymes styled as battle.
This historicizing expansion of a common metaphor into a conceit is joined on the album by “Just to Get a Rep” one of rap’s best and most terrible stories. The terror there is Guru’s plain reportage of how nonchalantly the desire to be known, respected, and feared by young men with little besides their reputations to bank on becomes another man’s death.
Gang Starr’s third album, Daily Operation (1992), continued the style of Guru’s smoothly delivered yet sonically dense lyrics and Premier’s impeccable beats. Three more Gang Starr releases followed in the 1990s.
Throughout that time Premier was spreading around his gifts for the benefit of other rappers, while Guru was releasing his influential Jazzmatazz albums, which asserted the connection between rap and jazz, another rich African American contribution to the world’s music.
STEP IN THE ARENA
Once you step in the arena, cheater, you’re gonna be a-Mazed when you gaze at the armor on this leader Fully clad and glad to fight a cause, I won’t pause Fear is a joke, slowpoke, I’m like claws that’ll rip ’Cause your gift is merely flesh
Superficial, and I wish you would give it a rest But if you don’t, I’ll unsheath my Excalibur Like a noble knight, so meet ya challenger A true hero, while you’re a true zero Gettin beat to a pulp so that you can’t run for help I heard a gulp in your throat, ’cause you hope that I’ll be merciful But coo-cluck, I made you strut as I rehearse a few Battle drills and watch your bladder spill Yellow fluid, check how I mellowly do it Face defeat to this beat, you can tell I’m into it As I’m pullin out my lance to kill you and advance to The winner’s throne,
’cause I own you once you Step in the arena In the arena, or rather coliseum
There’s people gatherin by multitudes to see one Perpetrator fall to the dust after the other Quickly disposed of at the hand of a known
brother Born with the art in his heart that is Spartacus And one-to-one combat, Jack, just the thought of this Matchup makes Gang Starr
wanna snatch up One or two phrases from the new book with new pages Of rhymes that are built like a chariot Dope vocals carry it to the battle set If a beat was a princess, I would marry it But now I must bow to the crowd as I stand proud Victorious, glorious—understand now?
’Cause battles and wars and much fights I have been through One MC got beheaded and you can, too
Forget it, ’cause you’d rather be just a spectator An onlooker, afraid you may get slayed or Struck by a blow from a mic gladiator I bet you that later you might be sad that you played yourself ’Cause you stepped up, chest puffed out And in just one lyric you got snuffed out ’Cause
rhymin is serious, I’m strong, I’m like Hercules You’ll get hurt with these lines, close the curtains, please The suckers can jet ’cause I wreck once you step In the arena
In the arena or forum, weak MCs I will floor ’em Causin mayhem, I’ll slay them and the blood’ll be pourin Furthermore, I implore that as a
soldier of war I go in only to win and be the holder of more Trophies, titles, and triumphs, ’cause I dump all the sly chumps Never choosin to lose my spot, not once For the mere idea of an opponent that I fear Is foolish utterly, I mean but none’ll be Tryin to toy with a destroyer of many You shitted your pants ’cause you can’t think of any Foe that can step to this concept so
You better sit again, citizen, weak MCs, I get rid of them Watch the way they get distraught when they get caught In the worst positions, ’cause they didn’t listen and tried Goin up against a hungry killer who’s itchin To maim and murder those who claimed that they were the Toughest ones, they get done once they step In the arena
JUST TO GET A REP
Brothers are amused by others brothers’ reps But the thing they know best
is where the gun is kept ’Cause in the night you’ll feel fright And at the sight of a four-fifth I guess you just might Wanna do a dance or two
’Cause he could maybe bust you for self or with a crew No matter if you or your brother’s a star He could pop you in check without a getaway car And some might say that he’s a dummy
But he’s sticking you and taking all of your money It’s a daily operation He might be loose in the park or lurking at the train station Mad brothers
know his name
So he thinks he got a little fame from the stick-up game And while we’re blaming society
He’s at a party with his man
They got their eye on the gold chain That the next man’s wearing
It looks big but they ain’t staring
Just thinking of a way and when to get the brother They’ll be long gone before the kid recovers And back around the way, he’ll have the chain on his neck Claimin respect, just to get a rep
Ten brothers in a circle had the kid trapped The one with the hoodie said,
“We’ll hurt you If you don’t run out your dues and pay Give up the Rolex watch or you won’t see another day”
See, they were on the attack and one said “Yo, you wanna make this to a homicide rap?
Make it fast so we can be on our way Kick in the rings and everything, okay?”
The kid was nervous and flinchin
And little Shorty with the .38, yo, he was inchin Closer and closer, put the gun to his head Shorty was down to catch a body instead Money was scared so he panicked
Took off his link and his rings and ran frantic But Shorty said, “Nah,”
pulled the trigger and stepped It was nothing, he did it just to get a rep The rep grows bigger, now he’s known for his trigger finger Rollin with troops of his sons like a gangster figure He’s near the peak of his crazy career His posse’s a nightmare, mackin jewels and crazy gear But as we know, the things we do come back And Shorty’s not peepin, others are steamin to counteract Because the kid that got shot didn’t
perish, so He pulls up in the Jeep with tinted windows Too late—
Shorty was caught in the mix His time ran out, his number came up, and that’s it You know the rest, so don’t front, the plan has been upset Some brothers gotta go out just to get a rep WORDS I MANIFEST
(REMIX)
I profess and I don’t jest, ’cause the words I manifest They will take you, sedate you, and I will stress upon You the need for you all to feed your Minds and souls, so you can lead yourSelf to peace, I got a real
objective here I am effective here, ’cause I select a clear Method for all
—suckers I maul, they fall and crawl Into the pit of purgatory I go for glory, I’m takin inventory
Countin all the tough-luck ducks while I narrate Relate and equate, dictate and debate ’Cause my fate is to be cold makin history I use sincerity but I’ll still bury the Doubts and questions of all the skeptics I’m kickin clout and I’ll even bet this Is true—there’s nothing so-so ’cause I know Right about this minute, I’m in it, admit it, I did it For you, ’cause this is what I’m into So chill while I instill that we all must fulfill The
proper mission for us, and yo, this is a must Using lines of my rhymes I attest
These are the words that I manifest, I manifest I suggest you take a rest for the words I manifest They will scold you and mold you, while I impress upon You the fact that I use my tact at
Rhymin, cold-climbin and chill while I attract that Girl you’re with, I got a sincere quality I give her all of me, ’cause you’re too small to be Tryin to riff, so let me uplift and shift my gift Let’s go to the fullest capacity I got tenacity because I have to be
The brother who must live and give with much insight Foresight to ignite, excite, and delight And you might gain from it or feel pain from it Because I’m ultimate and I’m about to let off Knowledge, wisdom, understanding
Truth—we cool, so won’t you throw a hand in The air, put up a peace sign and please find That though we’re feeling good, we should, we could, we would Stop—think for a moment, okay?
And then sway while I convey that we must do away With all the stress and the strife, God bless your life And use kindness and never
blindness
And you will find that this perspective is best, check it out These are the
words that I manifest, I manifest I convey that what I say will awaken you today Have you jockin while I’m talkin, but anyway That you put it, I give you lyrics to live to Righteousness rules, so I forgive you this time For you are being very ignorant
That’s insignificant, I guess you figured and Hoped you’d be dope as me, ID, you flee Because the pressure’s too much for you I’m your
professor, I got the touch to do More than the rest who fess and can’t compete I’m elite, I’ll defeat, delete and mistreat Make mincemeat of other fools, ’cause I’m the brother who’ll Snatch up the funds and make lonely ones I meant it, really, ’cause I’m clearly obsessed and I These are the words that I manifest, I manifest
T
ICE-T
aking his name from the pimp turned novelist Iceberg Slim, Ice-T cut a larger-than-life figure. In the spirit of his namesake, Ice-T early on developed a pimp persona in such songs as “Somebody Gotta Do It (Pimpin’ Ain’t Easy).” More pronounced, however, was his role in developing the persona of the West Coast gangsta. “6 ’N the Mornin’” is a gangsta rap classic and displays Ice-T’s success in exploiting a series of genres. The song is an aubade, as it begins at the crack of dawn, and partakes of the picaresque as it moves through its series of episodes. Each episode is contained in a discrete stanza, but each stanza advances the story. The song’s chronology spans a couple of complete days and also encompasses a significant jail term.
In the years following Rhyme Pays (1987), Ice-T’s work got more realistic (sometimes taking on a documentary-like feel, as in “Colors”), more political (as in 1989’s The Iceberg/ Freedom of Speech … Just Watch What You Say), and even more historical (1991’s O.G.: Original Gangster).
His rap-rock group Body Count released the deliberately provocative “Cop Killer” in 1992, and his performance with Jane’s Addiction front man Perry Farrell of Sly Stone’s “Don’t Call Me Nigger, Whitey” on the first Lollapalooza tour was some of the most nerve-touching racial theater of the decade.
6 ’N THE MORNIN’
6 ’n the mornin, police at my door Fresh Adidas squeak across the
bathroom floor Out my back window I make my escape Didn’t even get a chance to grab my old school tape Mad with no music but happy
’cause free And the streets to a player is the place to be Got a knot in my pocket weighing at least a grand Gold on my neck, my pistol’s close at hand I’m a self-made monster of the city streets Remotely controlled by hard hip-hop beats But just living in the city is a serious task Didn’t know what the cops wanted, didn’t have time to ask Word Seen my homeboys cooling way, way out Told ’em ’bout my morning, cold
bugged ’em out Shot a little dice ’til my knees got sore Kicked around some stories ’bout the night before Posse to the corner where the fly girls chill Threw action at some freaks ’til one bitch got ill She started acting silly, simply would not quit Called us all punk pussies, said we
all weren’t shit As we walked over to her, ho continued to speak So we beat the bitch down in the goddamn street But just living in the city is a serious task Bitch didn’t know what hit her, didn’t have time to ask Word
Continued clockin freaks with immense posteriors Rolling in a Blazer with a Louis interior Solid gold, the ride was raw
Bust a left turn, was on Crenshaw
Sean-E-Sean was the driver, known to give freaks hell Had a beeper going off like a high-school bell Looked in the mirror, what did we see?
Fucking blue lights, LAPD
Pigs searched our car, their day was made Found a Uzi, .44, and a hand grenade Threw us in the county, high power block No freaks to see, no beats to rock Didn’t want trouble, but the shit must fly Squabbled with this sucker, shanked him in the eye But just living in the county is a serious task Nigga didn’t know what happened, didn’t have time to ask Back on the streets after five and a deuce Seven years later, but still had the juice My homeboy Hen put me up on the track Told me E’s rolling villain, BJ’s got the sack Bruce is a giant, Nat C’s clocking dough Be-Bop’s a pimp, my old freak’s a ho The Batterram’s rolling, rocks are the thing Life has no meaning and money is king Then he looked at me slowly and Hen had the grin He said, “Man, you out early, we thought you got ten”
Opened up his safe, kicked me down with cold cash Knew I would get busy, he didn’t waste time to ask Word
I bought a Benz with the money, the rest went on clothes Went to the strip, start pimpin the hoes My hair had grew long on my seven-year stay When I got it done, on my shoulders it lay Hard from the joint but fly to my heart I didn’t want trouble but the shit had to start Out with my crew, some punks got loud Shotgun blasts echoed through the crowd Six punks hit, two punks died
All casualties were applied to their side Human lives had to pass just for talking much trash We didn’t know who they were, no one had time to ask Word
SWAT team leader yelled, “Hit the floor!”
Reached in my pocket, pulled my .44
Dove across the room, peeped out the window Twenty cops jumped behind a Pinto
Out the back door like some damn track stars Broke down a alley, jumped into a car Suckers didn’t even see us, they musta been blind Black wire touched red, the car was mine We hadn’t done nothin but some suckers got shot Hit the first turn, goddamn roadblock Broke through the block and we did it fast Cops would’ve shot us on sight, they wouldn’t of took time to ask Word
The rollers gave chase at a serious speed One more conviction was all I need This shit was for real, it was no la-di-da-di ’Cause the boys had to pin the shit on somebody And me and my crew, we were known to get ill We carried heat for protection but not to kill We bust a corner doing sixty, one police car spun And all I was thinking was murder one Bust a move into an alley and did it right And me and my crew were gone into the night Broke to my old lady’s, who drew me a bath She didn’t even know what happened, didn’t care, didn’t ask Word
We made love like crazy on top of the sheets This girlie was my whirly, a natural freak She ran her tongue over each and every part of me Then she rocked my Amadeus while I watched TV
A technician with a mission, that’s what she was If there had been a crowd she would’ve gotten applause This girl did everything on earth to me that could be done The she backed off and teased me so I
couldn’t come Then she cold got stupid, pushed me on the floor Had me begging to stop while I was screaming for more After she waxed my body, she let me crash She knew her loving was def, she didn’t waste time to ask Word
Up the next morning feeling good as hell Sleeping with the girlie sho’
beats a cell Hit the boulevard in my AMG Hoes catching whiplash trying to glimpse the T Ring on my mobile—yes, cellular
Got to have a phone when I’m in my car With my homeboy Red, some say he’s insane Broke his bitch jaw for smokin ’caine Told me to meet him at the airport Said he’s jumping bail, said he just left court Caught the first thing smokin in a serious dash We didn’t know where we were going, didn’t care, didn’t ask Fell asleep on the plane and so did he Woke up chilling in NYC