Rappers Are Saying F*ck the Streets. Is It Really That Easy?

Trap music’s never had a “We Are the World” moment, but 21 Savage’s recent X posts might be close enough. Last week, 21 implored Gunna and Young Thug to settle their differences after Gunna accepted a plea deal in their RICO case. His message ended with a philosophical imperative that’s since been repeated by Pooh Shiesty, G Herbo, and Young Thug himself: “Fuck the streets.” If only it were that simple. Alas, 21’s plea—one he’s since reworded following backlash—is just rap’s latest attempt to distance itself from the inflexible psyche of the street. The problem is, “street rap” and “street shit” are about as separable as air and oxygen; it’s hard to escape the streets when you’re defined by them. Against the push-pull forces of capitalism, upbringing, and instinct, rap’s been trying to for almost 40 years now.

By 1990, the crack epidemic had swallowed much of Black America, and calls to “stop the violence” had done a mediocre job of stopping the violence. In response, Dr. Dre and other West Coast rappers released a didactic pro-peace anthem called “We’re All in the Same Gang.” But resolving street violence was always more about economics and identity than rote platitudes. The violence Dr. Dre was condemning was about to make him incredibly rich.

As Public Enemy faded from mainstream relevance, Dr. Dre and Suge Knight founded a record label that would catapult “gangsta rap” to the top of the charts. It was literally called Death Row Records, and its first single was about shooting an undercover police officer. Their music helped them escape the ghetto. But their reality kept them entrenched in it.

“‘Street rap’ and ‘street sh*t’ are about as separable as air and oxygen.”

Three months before Doggystyle, the label’s second album, dropped, Snoop Dogg and his bodyguard were arrested for the murder of an alleged rival gang member. The shooting collapsed the distance between music and the streets it described. It also made Snoop even bigger. What better rollout for a gangsta rap album than a murder case? His album included a song about the murder charge. The next year, Death Row released a whole movie about it. Murder was the case that they gave him. They gave him a quadruple-platinum plaque, too.

Whether Snoop was innocent or not—he was acquitted in ‘96—crime, or, at least the appearance of it, paid. Even if rappers could escape the turbulence of gang culture, pop culture hardly gave them a reason to. After beginning his career as a Black Panther in training, 2Pac, whether deliberately or not, became a gangsta rap star by the end of 1994, a year that also saw him catch five bullet holes and a prison sentence for sexual abuse. His star only levitated. As he sat in a cell in Clinton Correctional Facility, his third solo album, Me Against the World, debuted at No. 1 on the Billboard chart. He beat out Bruce Springsteen.

While behind bars, ’Pac broached the idea of “graduating” from Thug Life. But industry rivalries, and, perhaps, a small lifetime of unprocessed trauma, only made him more combustible. And his music more potent. His next album, All Eyez on Me, sold 5 million copies before summer. 2Pac was bigger than he’d ever been. But after a scuffle with a Crip months later, he was dead.

The names and faces have changed, but the quicksands of the streets have not. Months after he was arrested for an Atlanta shooting, I spoke with Lil Durk for a Q&A in the winter 2020 edition of XXL’s print magazine. In it, I remember him speaking about the idea of repentance— working with Chicago politicians to fix some of the damage he and others had done to the city. As Durk entered the XXL office the same day, I texted his friend King Von to let him know I was with Durk for an interview. He teased him through the text, and Durk told me to call him out for his big head or something. They weren’t able to be around one another because they were codefendants in the same Atlanta shooting case. That November, Von was shot and killed while assaulting Quando Rondo. Four years later, Durk’s plans to repair Chicago were postponed when he was arrested for murder for hire in connection to an attempted Rondo shooting that left Rondo’s cousin dead.

“Even if rappers could escape the turbulence of gang culture, pop culture hardly gave them a reason to.”

Although the timing of his new album, What Happened to the Streets?, shouldn’t be ignored when considering the sincerity of 21 Savage’s Fuck the Streets—or rather, Save the Streets—movement, it’s hard to doubt he wants to escape the death rituals that preceded it. A move toward Atlanta unity is a noble cause, no matter what Blueface or Lil Zay Osama have to say about it. It’s a move 21 might have gotten a rough blueprint for when he watched Gucci Mane and Jeezy compete in a Verzuz battle five years ago. In 2005, Gucci shot and killed one of Jeezy’s friends when they tried to kill him. After a series of diss tracks and false starts toward reconciliation, the two decided to put their differences aside for a song-by-song battle.

I lied. This was the Atlanta “We Are the World” moment. Until it wasn’t.

Deep into the battle, Gucci Mane taunted Jeezy and his dead homie before performing his Jeezy diss, “The Truth.” Speaking on a Rap Radar Live panel two years later, Gucci regretted the moment while noting a diaphanous silver lining.

"When I left, I felt like, ‘Damn. I wish I wouldn’t have said what I said. But at the same time, I was like, ‘I'm glad that we [performed 'Icy' at the end],’” Gucci remembered. “It shows I'm evolving. I'm growing up,” he added. “I ain't the same.”

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