J Afr Am St (2011) 15:22–39

DOI 10.1007/s12111-010-9123-4
A RT I C L E S

Brotherly Love: Homosociality and Black Masculinity

in Gangsta Rap Music

Matthew Oware

Published online: 20 March 2010

# Springer Science+Business Media, LLC 2010

Abstract Hip hop, specifically gangsta rap music, reflects a stereotypical black
masculine aesthetic. The notion of a strong black male—irreverent, angry, defiant
and many times violent—is pervasive in gangsta rap music. This badman trope, as
characterized by Robin Kelley (1996), oftentimes encompasses hypermasculinity,
misogyny, and homophobia. It should come as no surprise that this genre of rap
music is rife with sexist themes and lyrics. Yet, what has not been fully explored are
the progressive ways that male rappers express themselves towards others
considered comrades or “homies.” Homosociality (Bird 1996; Sedgwick 1995),
non-sexual positive social bonds, exists in gangsta rap music between men. This
study explores the notion of homosociality in this genre of music, analyzing the
lyrics of male rap artists who have sold one million or more of their compact discs,
for a total of 478 songs. I attempt to further unpack the idea of hegemonic black
masculinity, presenting an alternative understanding of its deployment and
manifestation in this music.

Keywords Black masculinity . Hip hop . Rap . Homosociality

Gangsta rap music, the most popular selling subgenre of rap music, is predicated on
an essentialized and limited construction of black masculinity. Various scholars have
discussed the notion of black male authenticity within rap music (Kitwana 2002;
Ogbar 2007; Rose 2008). Many rappers construct a black male subjectivity that
incorporates the notion that masculinity means exhibiting extreme toughness,
invulnerability, violence and domination (Anderson 1990, 1999; Collins 2005;
Majors and Billson 1992; Neal 2006). Moreover, the cornerstones of gangsta rap
music—hypermasculinity, misogyny, and homophobia—pervade the genre. Howev-
er, what has received scant attention are the instances where black male rappers
express their humanity towards other men they consider their friends. This research

M. Oware (*)
DePauw University, 306 Asbury Hall, Greencastle, IN 46135, USA
e-mail: moware@depauw.edu
J Afr Am St (2011) 15:22–39 23

explores and highlights this little analyzed aspect of the medium via content analysis
of rap lyrics. In the end, black male rappers exhibit more than the staples of gangsta
rap, forcing a re-examination of this group and black masculinity overall.
Rappers routinely engage in hyperbolic masculinity, rhyming about their virility
and strength, flaunting their muscles or pumping their chests on their album covers
and music videos. An element of rapper discourse is the invincibility of the rap artist.
No rapper encounters defeat by his competitors. Indeed, according to many gangsta
rap artists, it would take an army of soldiers to even hurt them. One of the reasons
that these individuals are seemingly impenetrable rests in their brandishing of
weapons from small hand guns to large semiautomatic weapons that are aimed at
their opponents. Moreover, rapper etiquette dictates a propensity for violence
towards those who show disrespect. The imagined or real death of a competitor or
rival engenders no remorse or sorrow. Taken together, these characteristics personify
what it means to be black and male in gangsta rap—a “real nigga.” Ogbar (2007)
writes:
Subsequent rappers like Tupac and Jay-Z have celebrated the thug life while
underscoring their real nigga status. Within this framework, rappers who extol
ghettoized pathology (drug selling, gang banging, violence, pimping, etc.)
affirm their realness. All other groups become peripheral and must conform to
the standard established by this group. So lyrically and stylistically all artists
place themselves within this contextual framework and to varying degrees
appropriate [apparent] young African American male styles and markers (p. 43).
This embodiment or performance of supposed black manhood manifests itself by
male rappers engaging in “beefs” or verbal battles (and sometimes physical disputes)
with challengers who feel that they have been disrespected. The most famous and
tragic of these feuds happened between gangsta rappers Tupac Shakur and Notorious
B.I.G. and their record labels, Death Row and Bad Boy records. Unfortunately, both
rappers were murdered by unknown assailants. More recently we witness the
tensions between rappers 50 Cent and Ja Rule, as well as Jay-Z and the Game—all
exhibiting hypermasculinity.
In their works, Neal (2006), Majors and Billson (1992), and Collins (2005)
discuss how hypermasculinity constructs a kind of “strong black man,” “cool pose,”
and “real man” demeanor among black men, respectively. Specifically, a particular
presentation of self (Goffman 1959) emerges due to the limited opportunities that
many black males face in their daily lives. In discussing the masculine aesthetic he
identifies as the “Strong Black Man,” Neal (2006) claims its genesis began 400 years
ago due to the enslavement, violence, and continued economic exploitation of this
group. As a result, black males created a “functional myth” to help them handle their
plight (p. 21). Majors and Billson (1992) write that although black males defined
their manhood similarly to white males—provider, breadwinner, procreator, and
protector—they did not have the necessary resources to fulfill these roles.
Consequently, they created the “cool pose,” understood as “[u]nique patterns of
speech, walk, and demeanor...it is a ritualized form of masculinity that entails scripts,
physical posturing, impression management, and carefully crafted performances that
deliver a single, critical message: pride, strength, and control” (p. 2–4). Concurring
24 J Afr Am St (2011) 15:22–39

with Neal (2006) and Majors and Billson (1992), Collins (2005) writes “because so
many African American men lack access to forms of political and economic power
that are available to elite White men, the use of their bodies, physicality, and a form
of masculine aggressiveness become more important. Black men experience
violence, often at the hands of other Black men” (p. 190).
This type of masculinity informs the “code of the street,” whereby black males
who live in predominately urban and poor environments comport themselves in a
manner deterring any sort of altercation with other individuals; thus, males must
come off as aggressive or inclined to violence in order to prevent violent
confrontations from ensuing (Anderson 1999). This behavior is reinforced and
magnified when concentrated poverty, high crime and joblessness exist in these
settings (Anderson 1999; Massey and Denton 1993; Wilson 1996). Popular gangsta
rapper 50 Cent presents an example of this violent hypermasculine stance when he
states, “You see me in the hood, I got at least two guns/I carry the glock, Tony car
my M-1s.” (2003). These aspects of black manhood present concomitant
weaknesses, namely a “stunted, conservative, one-dimensional, and stridently
heterosexual vision of black masculinity” (Neal 2006, p. 24). This constricted
masculinity leads to blatant misogyny and homophobia in rap.
Misogyny abounds in gangsta rap. More than any other aspect of this musical
genre, misogyny has been the focal point of hip hop research (see Perry 2004 and
Sharpley-Whiting 2007 for detailed analyses). The excessive deployment of
demeaning and denigrating language towards women, especially black women,
permeates the music (Adams and Fuller 2006). For example, using lyrics analyzed in
this work, on their compact disc D12 World (2004), the group D12 has a song
entitled “Bitch” with lyrics stating, “Wiggle that ass, bitch...Yeah, I called you a
bitch, bitch.” In addition to degrading language, the objectification of women occurs
in the portrayal of them in skimpy clothing, vacuously gyrating around fully-clothed
males, epitomizing current rap videos. Tricia Rose (2008), the foremost authority on
hip hop, writes “Hip hop’s sexism is visible, vulgar, aggressive and popular...clearly,
the issue isn’t if [emphasis mine] hip hop—as it has evolved in the commercial arena
over the past dozen years or so—promotes sexist and demeaning images of black
women as its bread-and-butter” (p. 114). Agreeing, Perry (2004) writes that rap
music often presents women as hypersexualized “gold diggers” who attempt to take
advantage of men (p. 128).
Kelley (1996) contends the denigration of women arises from the fear of female
sexuality—black males’ failure of meeting the wants or desires of black women.
Other scholars argue that the images in videos and messages in the music are
reflective of the real tensions between black males and females. Black females
making advancements beyond black males in the workplace and in school
necessitates a need for said males to regain their footing by “putting women in
their place” (Cole and Guy-Sheftall 2003; Collins 2005; Kitwana 2002). Collins
(2005) states that one of the benchmarks of current “real man” black masculinity
includes control of black women (p. 189). Consequently, a hegemonic form of
masculinity develops in the medium of rap wherein black males attempt to dominate
black women aurally (in the music) and visually (in music videos) (Sharpley-
Whiting 2007). Indeed, Collins writes, “Black men’s visibility within basketball, rap,
J Afr Am St (2011) 15:22–39 25

and hip-hop culture has provided a new and highly visible cultural arena for
reasserting an adult Black masculinity...” (p. 191).
Another pervasive aspect of gangsta rap that is directly connected to misogyny
and hypermasculinity is homophobia. Male rappers routinely embrace pejorative
language with an anti-gay stance. Hill (2009) writes “...hip hop’s most popular artists
over the past five years have consistently deployed antigay rhetoric within their
music. For example, top selling rappers like Nas, Jay-Z, Nelly, 50 Cent, Eminem, Ja
Rule, and DMX have all used terms like ‘faggot’ and ‘homo’ to disparage gay and
lesbian people, as well as emasculate real and imagined enemies” (p. 32). For
example, DMX, in his song “Where the Hood At,” from his compact disc Grand
Champ (2003) rhymes: “Last I heard, y’all niggas was havin sex, with the same sex/I
show no love to homo thugs/how you gonna explain fuckin’ a man.” Lamenting this
trend, gay rapper Tim’m in his interview with Chang (2006) states that hip hop is the
last self-congratulatory arena for homophobia (p. 200). Although homophobic
references are employed to demean and belittle male rivals and gays and lesbians,
gay and lesbian sexual identities are indispensible to promoting a heteronormative
masculinity. Tim’m, in his interview with Chang (2006), continues: “Hip hop heteros
rely heavily on the inappropriate faggot in order to even exist. In a really twisted sort
of way, they rely on the verbal bashing of fags in order to substantiate their manhood...
Sadly hard edge and masculinity almost always means you hate fags” (p. 203). Collins
(2005) contends that some heterosexual black men may resort to violence against
gay men who threaten their heterosexuality (p. 192). This point is easily
recognizable in many gangsta rap songs when rappers rhyme about “beating up”
or “killing” gay men.
An even more perverse type of homophobia perpetuating black male control
targets lesbians, especially lesbians of color, a group rarely discussed when anti-gay
conversations occur in rap (Pritchard and Bibbs 2007). In this realm, uber alles-
heterosexual male rappers not only conquer male competitors and heterosexual
women, they also sexually dominate lesbians. In essence, as Sharpley-Whiting
(2007) cogently writes: “Viewed through the prism of the hypermasculine culture of
hip hop, lesbians and lesbianism are in some respects the final frontier of conquest.
The prevailing mentality is that all lesbians need a ‘good stiff one’ to set them on a
‘straight’...course” (p. 15). Thus, a lesbian identity vanishes with a heterosexual
encounter with a dominant and domineering male rapper.
Albeit sexist and ostensibly hateful, the aforementioned aspects of commercial
black male rap draw on the “badman” trope (Kelley 1996; Perry 2004; Ogbar 2007).
The badman originated in the fables of Stagolee and Shine and continued in the
1970s black exploitation movie characters of Dolomite, the Mack, and Superfly, as
well as in the sports arena with athletes like Muhammed Ali or Charles Barkley.
Partly a creation of racism and classism, the badman is feared by whites and middle-
class black society for his non-conformity, eschewing established rules, norms, or
laws of society. Rather, he moves to his own tune and “...is an outlaw, challenging a
societal order antithetical to the expression of African American humanity. He is a
rebel to society, living on the margins of a black community that at once regards him
as a hero and a threat” (Perry 2004, p.128). Drug dealers, hustlers, pimps, and
players adhere and abide by badman behavior. All emphasize their sexual and
physical prowess, fully embracing misogyny and homophobia as part of their
26 J Afr Am St (2011) 15:22–39

character. Under the guise of “strong black men” or “real men” (Neal 2006; Collins
2005) gangsta rap artists uphold and perpetuate this aspect of masculinity.
Unlike homophobia, misogyny, and hypermasculinity, another dimension of
masculinity within rap has received little attention—homosociality. Homosociality is
defined as individuals of the same-sex exihibiting strong social bonds toward one
another in a non-sexual manner (Bird 1996; Sedgwick 1985; Flood 2008). Previous
research has found that homosociality plays a critical role in perpetuating hegemonic
masculinity and mediating heterosexual male-female relationships. Bird (1996)
interviewed predominately white college educated males finding three criteria for
manhood: an emotional detachment from women; engaging in competition (whether
in sports or for women) with other men; and sexually objectifying women. All of
these aspects are exhibited in front of and must meet the approval of other
heterosexual males. Similarly, among his all English-speaking Australian male
respondents, Flood (2008) found that homosocial male relationships were supposed
to be prioritized over male-female types of relationships (platonic or sexual).
Moreover, the purpose of male-female relationships was solely for sexual
intercourse. Finally, male bonding occurs by heterosexual sex talk, specifically,
men telling each other stories of their sexual conquests (p. 6). This hegemonic
masculinity proliferates because men seek the approval of other men in homosocial
relationships (Kimmel 1994). Thus according to this research, homosocial male
spaces encompass homophobia, sexism, and hyper-competitiveness (Bird 1996;
Kimmel 1994).
Previous research on homosociality among males primarily depicts the adverse
and negative aspects of masculinity, or boys-behaving-badly. Perhaps this lies in the
fact that those who have been interviewed are predominately white males,
individuals who are “closest” to the dominant form of white masculinity; for
example, only two of the 11 males that Bird (1996) interviewed were black.
However, because many black males are marginalized in American society,
possessing higher rates of prison incarceration, mortality, joblessness, and lower
rates of educational attainment, middle-class status, and quality healthcare in
comparison to elite white males, they face a different relationship to hegemonic
masculinity (Collins 2005; Kimmel 1994). Both Kimmel (1994) and Collins (2005)
discuss how non-hegemonic males (for example, minority or gay men) are routinely
“othered” by white, elite, heterosexual males. Collins (2005) specifically states that a
three-tiered hierarchy of masculinity exists with white males at the top and black
males at the bottom, possessing the perceived least desirable form of manhood.
Black masculinity, while drawing on various negative components of white
hegemonic masculinity (i.e. hypermasculinity, sexism and homophobia), especially
in rap music, may be more dynamic and complex than at first glance.
Since prior research on hip hop has documented the aforementioned harmful
aspects of black masculinity in rap music, this study explores how blacks interact
with other black males in potentially empowering and caring ways. What do rappers
who engage in homosocial rhetoric say about their “homies” or those that they
consider friends? How does this inform black masculinity? Are there instances
where black male rappers deliberately and intentionally express affection, gratitude,
and even vulnerability towards other black males? The answers to these questions
expand and enhance our understanding of black masculinity within rap, particularly
J Afr Am St (2011) 15:22–39 27

male-male relationships, by presenting instances where males express a broader and

more complex range of emotions and feelings than typically discussed and analyzed
in rap music. The results demonstrate that black gangsta rappers, as expressed
through their lyrics, are more humane than initially thought.

Methods

This exploratory study examines the themes that emerge when black rap artists
rhyme about individuals who are not their competitors or adversaries, but their
friends. It complements existing literature that discusses the cultural development of
hip hop as a popular art form (see Chang 2005), as well as how rap music informs
racial, gender, and class dynamics (see Morgan 1999; Rose 2008) by employing a
content or lyrical analysis of popular selling rap albums. Through a systematic
technique for obtaining and analyzing songs, I seek to evince generalizable findings
based on an established sociological methodology. Such methods are employed in
the works of Kubrin (2005a; 2005b) and Oware (2009) in reference to this medium.
Specifically, after reading the lyrics and listening to songs in order to discern
intonation and intention, I perform a lyrical analysis of top selling albums (25 in all)
by black male rap artists whose individual compact discs sold at least one million
copies or more (see Appendix). Hence, I analyze popular mainstream rap music for
the messages conveyed about male-male friendships.
This selection process yielded an overall sample of 478 songs. Sexism, misogyny,
bravado, violence, or homophobia saturated all the albums and nearly every song.
These topics permeate the music as expected by previous research. However, other
subject matters surfaced in relation to black male camaraderie. These topics included
rappers defining their male friends as family members (friends are family), rappers
utilizing their personal achievements for the benefit of their male friends (success by
association), and finally lamenting or mourning the incarceration or death of a
companion (loss of friends). Specifically, coding was based on the presence of these
themes in individual songs. Instances of “friends are family” were based on
references wherein rappers equated friendship with familial ties, for example, “we
are more than friends we are family,” or a similar sentiment. “Success by
Association” entailed cases where rappers mentioned sharing their material wealth
or other resources with their friends, an example being “my money is your money”
or something to that affect. Finally, “loss of friends” referred to rappers lamenting
the loss of their buddies to incarceration or death; for example, “I am sad he died” or
a similar emotion (see Appendix). If a song had either one or multiple lyrics that
expressed any of these topics then that song was coded once for that specific theme.
Thus, if there are multiple lyrics that indicated loss of friends (or any of the other
subject matters) in one song, then that song was only coded once for this theme.
Although very few, there are some instances of entire songs devoted to one topical
area. A minority of songs in the entire sample mentioned more than one theme (4%).
Over a third (37%) of the songs of the entire sample made reference to at least one of
these themes. Consequently, they constituted a much smaller focus of discussion.
Nonetheless, their presence should encourage a nuanced understanding of these
artists and their music.
28 J Afr Am St (2011) 15:22–39

Before examining the aforementioned aspects within the genre it is worth noting
the varied ways that rappers referred to someone as a friend: “dog” or “dawg,”
“partner” or “partna” and “homie,” short for homeboy. The most controversial, yet
frequently iterated characterization was “my nigga.” In rap parlance this apparent
racial slur also designates a term of endearment or a friendly appellation between
black males (Kennedy 2003). Thus, when discussing examples of homosociality
these phrases are mentioned.

Analysis

Friends Are Family

For several rappers, friend is synonymous with family. From his song “Family
Business” on the compact disc College Dropout (2004), Kanye West explains: “All
my niggas from the Chi, that’s my family dog/And my niggas ain’t my guys, they
my family dog/I feel like one day you’ll understand me dog/ You can still love your
man and be manly dog.” Kanye asserts that his connection with other males goes
beyond mere friendship, something more than just having his “guys.” Rather, his
friends comprise his family, an intimately closer and personal tie for an associate.
Contrary to the blatant homophobia in most rap music, Kanye presents an ostensibly
anti-homophobic stance wherein he fully embraces the idea of demonstrating
affection for another male, yet maintaining “manliness.”
Similarly to Kanye, the transgression of heteronormative masculinity surfaces in
the lyrics of Young Jeezy’s song “Dreamin” on his compact disc Inspiration (2007).
The artist says: “One thing about it, I got love for you homie/ Two things about it,
I’ll take a slug for you homie/ Look at you now, you’se a business man/ I’m proud of
you dog, handle your business man/You like the brother I never ever had.” Jeezy’s
robust fondness for his friend engenders putting himself in harm’s way—“tak[ing] a
slug”—for this person. This sort of behavior typifies parents’ attitudes towards their
children or lovers’ outlooks towards their significant other. Yet, this rapper illustrates
these views when referring to another male in a platonic manner. Indeed, Jeezy
claims a familial bond stronger than simple camaraderie towards his “homie,”or in
this case, a fictitious brother. Outkast member Big Boi articulates how biological ties
extend into the realm of companionship when he raps: “Marcus, Jason, my little
brother James/ All my brothers from my momma but Andre is just the same/Ain’t no
uno, we a duo, deuce dos to a pair.” These ostensibly sincere words suggest a deeper
connection to his fellow rap mate Andre.
The last example for this category comes from the song “Loyalty” by the group
D12 on their compact disc D12 World (2004). In the song, several artists in the
group rhyme about the importance of loyalty in their constructed family. Swifty
McVay explodes: “Why would I give a fuck about you if we ain’t family?/ I roll with
a chosen few and those of you that’s behind me.” Revealing bravado and a certain
level of vulnerability, Swifty’s statement seems intent on expressing how important
he takes friendship. Conveying the literal meaning of the song another member of
the group, Kon Artist, states in the chorus: “See I’m a man, and a man gon’ do what
he gotta do/ And if they was really soldiers then they would do what we do/And be
J Afr Am St (2011) 15:22–39 29

loyal to crew and crew was loyal to you.” Clearly, the primacy of solidarity to fellow
members or “crew,” dominates. This maxim epitomizes manhood, according to Kon
Artist. Moreover, he admonishes other male groups to incorporate this principle in
their own friendships.
Even though friends as family is a small theme in the sample (found in less than
5% of songs) when discussed it reveals an alternative view of black masculinity.
This aspect challenges the prevailing narrowly defined notions about black male rap
artists. The nuance becomes even more apparent when analyzing how rap artists
share their success with companions.

Success by Association

Practically every rap artist analyzed who achieved success monetarily or otherwise
imparted those resources to their friends. An example of this comes from “Do You
Wanna Ride” by Jay-Z from his album Kingdom Come (2007):
Yeah nigga I bet we was kids and had dreams of bein here/
I said ‘we’ cause I’m here, you here!/
Yeah, ride with me, your spot is reserved family/
Cigarette boats, yachts, ain’t nowhere we can’t go/
We in South Beach and the Hamptons too baby/
In the name of those who ain’t made it, my progress/
Show success, please live through me/
I put my niggaz on, my niggaz put they niggaz on/
In this verse, Jay-Z makes it abundantly clear that he will provide material
resources to those considered friends, whether that entails trips to expensive
locations (the Hamptons or South Beach) or rides on luxurious boats. Moreover, he
incorporates the previous theme of friends-are-family with his felt obligation to share
his wealth with these individuals. He ends by discussing how his actions are
communal in nature, the resources given to his buddies should be shared with their
friends, and so on. This behavior exhibits the principal of “what is mine is thine,”
wherein those who have the means share their resources with those who do not.
Similarly to Jay-Z, rapper Ludacris, in his song “Large Amount” from the
compact disc Red Light District (2005) rhymes: “My goal is to set my friends up to
make some paper like me/ Put’em in position to make they wishes come-true/ So
they can have multiple accounts that gain interest overnight/ Given a million dollars
what you gon’ do?” Contradicting the narcissistic and ego-centric attitude that most
artists exhibit in their lyrics, Ludacris queries the listener: what is a millionaire’s
obligation to his friends? He responds by saying that he must “set” them “up” and
create opportunities where they can earn money themselves. In his guest appearance
on the rapper T.I.’s “On Top of the World” (2008), Ludacris declares: “Put one of my
partners right through culinary school/Now he my personal chef so that bread, he get
it/Put’em all in houses, cleaned up all my friends’ credit /And now they witnessed all
the glitz and the glamour.” Ludacris’s munificence ranges from covering the full
tuition of a friend through school to restoring the credit of those who needed it,
presumably through paying their bills. While Ludacris demonstrates his generosity,
for some other rappers sharing wealth and fame are mandates.
30 J Afr Am St (2011) 15:22–39

In his song “Drugs” from his compact disc U Gotta (2004) Lil Flip says: “And
since Will Lean my nigga, I gotta help him out/ So I’ma put him out (so nigga kick
ya feet up)/ And when the stores sell-out (then it’s time to re-up)/So keep yo D-up,
cuz we comin’ with the heat man/And if you get a deal make sure yo niggaz eat
man.” Lil Flip’s message to the listener verges on reprimand—material wealth or
fame gained by one requires its redistribution to close associates. Such action
becomes mandatory, not only done out of the kindness of one’s heart. Overall,
implicit in the lyrics of the aforementioned rappers, individual achievements cannot
stand alone, especially when buddies need help, monetarily or otherwise. When male
friends face even greater troubles such as imprisonment, or even death, then some
rappers verbalize their grief and sorrow.

Lament of Lost Friends

On every compact disc, with multiple references in some songs, rap artists
poignantly discuss the loss of a friend to incarceration or death. The rapper T.I.
dedicates an entire song, “You Ain’t Missing Nothing” to an imprisoned companion
on his compact disc Paper Trail (2008). He bemoans:
My nigga Cap right now servin’ a life sentence/
For a murder he committed in self-defense/
And in such good spirits, shawty ain’t even trippin’/
And I could be right there with him, no bullshittin’/
He on his ninth year now, just waitin’ to get out/
Got me thinkin’ my shit ain’t even worth complainin about/
Cuz it can still be worse, fa sho’/
T.I. expresses his sadness for the long term confinement of his friend for what he
considers an unjust reason. Moreover, in a moment of deep reflection T.I. recognizes
his own good fortune of freedom. The subject of loss pervades T.I.’s music,
especially towards those who have passed away. In several songs he pays particular
homage to his close associate Philant Jones, shot to death during an altercation with
another individual (2007; 2008).
Sorrow expressed over death also appears in the lyrics of The Game’s song
“Start from Scratch” on his album The Documentary (2005). Plaintively, he
rhymes “I got too many dead homies, fuck a rap career/ I’d give anything in the
world to bring back my nigga Tear/ Seem like we was just in Magic City yesterday/
If I could bring back my homeboy, Charles he would say/ (leads into chorus of
song).” The Game claims to forsake his current occupation if his friends lived. In
another song on the album he discloses his membership in the notoriously violent
Los Angeles gang known as the Bloods who wear red attire as their identifying
characteristic. Yet, in two deeply moving lyrics he reveals, “Every time one of my
niggaz gets shot, the more I suffer/Cause we trapped in a world where you forced
to die for your colors.” Albeit a gang member, he comprehends the damage caused
not only in his life but in the lives of other adherents of gang dogma. Homicide
hurts everyone.
Some rap artists courgeously express their vulnerability due to the passing of a
beloved companion. In his song “A’Yo Kato” on his compact disc Grand Champ
J Afr Am St (2011) 15:22–39 31

(2003) DMX wails: “There was things left unsaid, dog, we wasn’t finished/Never
got to say thank you for being a friend/Dogs for life, and you rode to the end/Now I
come back to Phoniex and like ‘damn it’s hard’/To accept the fact, that you won’t be
coming back.” DMX sincerely opens up, exposing heartfelt emotions to the listener,
unexpected from the archetypal gangstar rapper. He is not the only one, Lil Wayne
heartbreakingly rhymes on the song “Get Over” from his compact disc Carter II
(2006): “We gettin’ ready now, bitch, my nigga dead now/And all the things I never
said, I gotta say it now/I shoulda said it then, now I gotta talk to clouds/Now I gotta
walk around, brim down.” Filled with overwhelming grief, Lil Wayne hides his face,
covering it with his hat.

Discussion

In her book “Prophets of the Hood,” Perry (2004) asks: “There is a great deal of
discussion about the violent forces in hip hop, but what about the countervailing
forces of love?”(p. 134). Perhaps academicians and pop culture scholars believe
rappers incapable or unwilling to express this emotion. Reading the extant literature
written on rap music corroborates this belief. Clearly, mainstream black male rap
artists, employing the badman trope, place an inordinate amount of emphasis on
hypermasculine themes—violence, machismo, and self-aggrandizement. Sexism,
misogyny, and homophobia permeate the music. These points are irrefutable.
However, the existence of these aspects in rap must not obscure the humanity of
many black male rap artists. Although the themes of family-are-friends, success-by-
association, and mourning of death and incarceration appear in a minority of the
lyrics sampled, these findings call for a rethinking of conventional understandings of
popular rap artists and black masculinity.
A close analysis of the lyrics of top selling rap artists evince the counter-
hegemonic “forces of love” at play. Same-sex affection peppers black male rappers’
lyrics. Not only do rappers express deep concern for their close friends, they also
provide them material resources, whether money or a place to stay, when needed.
They build and maintain community with their friends who are near or far. More
important, several of the popular artists analyzed exhibit behaviors that undermine
and overturn hegemonic masculine doctrine—they are vulnerable and emotional.
They present their feelings of sorrow and loss; they express remorse for a comrade
when he dies or becomes incarcerated. Some of the hardest artists display their deep-
seated love and heartfelt sensitivity towards other men. Furthermore, the apparent
manifestation of these emotions contradicts the idea of the cool pose—that one must
be tough and aloof—especially towards other men (Majors and Billson 1992).
Indeed, several rappers directly reject homophobic constructions of black male
relationships; yet, they are homosocial.
The intent here is not to depict rap artists as undercover or latent homosexuals;
rather, rapper’s, like all human beings, possess a multifaceted range of emotions, and
this work highlights those that lack adequate discussion in the literature. Yet, these
sentiments do not merely emerge out of an altruistic or pure sense of love for fellow
men. Rather, they reflect the realities of high levels of incarceration, homicide
resulting in death, poverty, and joblessness faced by many black males in most
32 J Afr Am St (2011) 15:22–39

postindustrial urban cities (Anderson 1999; Massey and Denton 1993; Wilson 1996).
Perhaps, the sub-standard conditions and constrained opportunities in these locations
provoke sexism, homophobia, and hypermasculinity (Anderson 1999; Collins 2005;
Kelley 1996; Kitwana 2002; Neal 2006), the visceral response, yet there exists a
humane reaction, progressive thinking that may not dominate but does reverberate
throughout rap music.
The lack of primacy of these positive themes in the music may stem from the
popularity of the aforementioned negative aspects. Several scholars assert that since
white teenagers are the largest consumers of the music and mega corporations have
overtaken small independent music labels targeted towards minority populations
then many rap artists were limited in the sorts of topics that they could discuss for
fear of being dropped from their record company (Rose 2008; Watkins 2006).
Possibly, radical or empowering rap would not sell records; rather, rappers who
essentially perpetuate denigrating and belittling stereotypes of blacks, especially
black males, appeal to market forces (Rose 2008; Ogbar 2007). In this constrained
and limited environment, there exists a symbiotic relationship between record
companies and rap artists whereby, from the label’s perspective, only certain types of
lyrics or imagery are believed profitable, thus the demand for that kind of music.
Understanding this demand, artists offer songs that mainly consist of misogyny,
violence, and homophobia. Therefore, there exists an over-representation of the thug
or pimp motif in rap music targeted towards record labels who want the next
multiplatinum selling artist and an audience that eagerly wants to consume such
imagery. Moreover, violence and sexism sell in popular Hollywood movies and
television shows as well. Indeed, the media’s “if it bleeds it leads” approach to
presenting news stories lends credence to this argument (Glassner 2000).
Yet multiple rappers also deploy genuine and empowering messages in their
lyrics. Some express their despair and grief over fallen comrades, similarly to the
black males in the communities where many of these rappers originate. Indeed, the
narratives articulated due to a companion’s passing or imprisonment may be more
authentic than the hyperbole often heard in rap music. This is the other side of
machismo and violence, the other reaction to sometimes cruel environments that
carte blanche ends lives prematurely. Black males, as manifested through rap music,
do posses positive and progressive homosocial relationships—a boldfaced example
of brotherly love. In this instance, Black masculinity should be understood as
increasingly complex with layered nuances.
A legitimate critique of the above analysis posits that the artists analyzed may not
actually mean, with heartfelt concern and genuine belief, what they rap about. The
supposed expressed sadness, philanthropy, and fictive kinship may be mere facades.
Indeed, when rappers say other rappers names in their rhymes, it could be a ploy to
further the career of the acknowledged rappers. The feelings conveyed may not be
“real,” truly experienced by those analyzed in this research, but “performed,” staged,
or in this case communicated, actions and beliefs. Without actually interviewing
each and every artist and questioning his true intent, how can we, the listeners, know
truth from fabrication?
The response to the above critique is multifaceted. First, methodologically
speaking, it would be more appropriate to personally interview all artists and
deliberately ask them their intent. Clearly, this would provide a stronger case for or
J Afr Am St (2011) 15:22–39 33

against my argument. Yet, even if this approach were used there still are concerns
about interviewer bias, or the possibility that artists would tailor their answers to
what they believe I, the interviewer, wanted to hear (Schutt 2004). Thus, “truth”
remains elusive. In addition, this particular methodological approach is simply not
feasible given the limited resources this researcher possesses (i.e., the ability to set-
up interview schedules, offer remuneration for interviews, etc.).
However, methodological approach aside, a direct response to the offered critique
requires a discussion of the artists’ specific kind of performance. For the sake of
argument, let us say that the artists are not being genuine and truthful. They have not
lived what they rhymed. Then the more important questions become why articulate
expressed mourning and generosity? Why talk about the (supposed) death of a friend
and how it (supposedly) impacted them? Why rhyme about referring to another male
as a family member? Why rap about how they (allegedly) helped other males? Thus,
the question becomes why this type of performance, especially since it contradicts
assumed black masculinity (i.e., hypermasculinity, homophobia, and misogyny).
Indeed, this conveyed “vulnerability” is not a component of black manhood.
Moreover, such an emotion can be detrimental in some social settings such as the
inner-city (Anderson 1999). Thus, why express these feelings in the most
hypermasculine sub-genre of rap music?
To answer these questions requires that we expand and re-evaluate our notions of
black masculinity. Gangsta rappers may not have really mourned the death of a
friend, or actually monetarily helped out another, but they are communicating that
this is their intention—to lament and assist. Put another way, they are expressing
their versatile range of emotions through performance, whether lived or not. They
are performing mourning, sorrow, regret, and outreach, not necessarily because it can
sell records (indeed, expressing these emotions can work against them), but because,
despite the market forces (the record label and fans) impinging on them, they
articulate their humanity. This point is buttressed by the fact that these (hypothetical)
emotions are presented in a small percentage of the overall sample. Perhaps, the
artists realize that too much “touchy-feely” emotion does not sell records, yet they
are not one-dimensional—they assert and project (perform) other feelings and beliefs
that run counter to the archetypical black gangsta rapper and hegemonic masculinity,
whether these sentiments are lived or not. Ironically, the query should be why are
black male rappers expressing these specific kinds of emotions in gangsta rap, as
opposed to whether the emotions they reveal are based in reality. The answer to the
question: black men, even hardcore rappers, are humans with a wide range of
feelings. Of course, there exists the possibility that some of these individuals are
describing aspects of their realities (death or incarceration of friends, etc.), though
this would only reinforce the aforementioned points.
In general, more dialogue surrounding black males and rap music should include
not only critiques of the detrimental aspects of this popular cultural medium, but
also areas of empowering and encouraging messages. Lyrics that address the
intimacy of close friends and the loss of said friends to prison or death exemplify
these areas. Moreover, black masculinity, in general, must be understood to parallel
and transgress hegemonic masculinity. Then a more nuanced and sophisticated
discourse will take place around this musical genre and black masculinity as a
whole.
34 J Afr Am St (2011) 15:22–39

Appendix: Coded Gangster Rap Songs, 2003–2008

Artist Album title Song Themes

Friends are Success by Loss of

family association friend

2003 Compact Discs

DMX Grand Champ (N=20) Where the Hood X 0 0
Dogs Out X 0 0
Untouchable 0 X X
We Bout to Blow X 0 0
A ‘Yo Kato X 0 X
Chingy Jackpot (N=13) Chingy Jackpot 0 X 0
We Getting It 0 X 0
Represent 0 X 0
Outcast Speakerboxx/ Love Bust 0 X 0
Below (N=16) Tomb of Boom X X 0
Flip Flop Rock X 0 0
Reset 0 0 X
50 Cent Get Rich or Die Tryin’ Many Men 0 0 X
(N=18) High All the Time 0 X 0
Don’t Push Me 0 0 X
Gotta Make it to Heaven 0 0 X
G-Unit Beg for Mercy (N=18) Betta Ask Somebody X X X
G’d Up 0 0 X
2004 Compact Discs
D12 D12 World (N=18) Loyalty X 0 X
How Come X X 0
40 oz. 0 X 0
American Psycho X 0 X
Twista Kamikaze (N=16) Hope X 0 X
Sunshine 0 X 0
Lil’ Flip U Gotta Feel Me All I Know 0 X 0
(N=20) Bounce X 0 0
Check (Let’s Ride) 0 X 0
Dem Boyz 0 X 0
Dem Boyz (remix) 0 X 0
Drugs (screwed) 0 X 0
Rags to Riches 0 X 0
Sun Don’t Shine 0 0 X
Throw up Yo’ Hood 0 X 0
Y’all Don’t Want It 0 X 0
Kanye West College Dropout Get’em High 0 X 0
(N=16) Family Business X 0 0
J Afr Am St (2011) 15:22–39 35

(continued)

Artist Album title Song Themes

Friends are Success by Loss of

family association friend

Nelly Sweat/Suit (N=24) American Dream X 0 0

Getcha Getcha X 0 0
Another One 0 X 0
2005 Compact Discs
50 Cent The Massacre (N=21) Outta Control 0 X 0
Ski Mask Way 0 X 0
My Toy Soldier X X 0
Hate It or Love It 0 0 X
The Game Documentary (N=17) Runnin’ 0 0 X
The Documentary 0 0 X
Start from Scratch 0 0 X
Church of Thugs 0 X X
Hate It or Love It 0 0 X
Don’t Need Your Love X 0 X
Lil Jon Crunk Juice (N=13) Grand Finale X 0 0
Stick That Thang Out 0 X 0
What You Gon’ Do 0 X 0
Ludacris The Red Light District Get Back 0 X 0
(N=15) Spur of the Moment 0 X 0
Large Amounts 0 X 0
Two Miles an Hour 0 X 0
Kanye West Late Registration Drive Slow X 0 0
(N=17) Diamonds from Sierra X X 0
Leone (remix)
Gone X 0 X
2006 Compact Disc
T.I. King (N=16) I’m Talkin’ to You X 0 0
Live In the Sky 0 0 X
Top Back 0 X 0
Under Taker 0 0 X
Good Life 0 0 X
Told You So 0 X 0
Lil Wayne Carter II (N=19) Fly In 0 X 0
Money On My Mind X 0 0
Lock and Load X 0 0
Hustle Music 0 X 0
Shooter 0 X 0
Get Over 0 0 X
Feel Me X 0 0
36 J Afr Am St (2011) 15:22–39

(continued)

Artist Album title Song Themes

Friends are Success by Loss of

family association friend

B.I.G. Duets (N=19) It Has Been Said 0 X X

Spit Your Game 0 X X
Get Your Grind On 0 X 0
Whateva 0 0 X
Beef 0 0 X
Hustler’s Story 0 0 X
Breakin’ Old Habits 0 X X
Mi Casa 0 X 0
Want That Old 0 X 0
Thing Back
Chamillionaire Sound of Revenge Intro X 0 0
(N=18) Picture Perfect 0 X 0
Void My Life 0 0 X
Sound of Revenge Rider 0 X 0
Yung Joc Young Joc City Hear Me Coming 0 X X
(N=13) Picture Perfect 0 0 X
2007 Compact Discs
Jay-Z Kingdom Come Prelude X 0 0
(N=14) Lost One X X 0
Do You Wanna Ride X X X
30 Something 0 X 0
Minority Report 0 0 X
Kanye West Graduation (N=15) Good Morning 0 X 0
Champion 0 X 0
Big Brother X X
Glory 0 X 0
Young Jeezy Inspiration (N=16) You Know What It Is 0 X X
I Luv It 0 X 0
Go Getta 0 X X
Bury Me A G 0 X 0
Dreamin X X 0
Keep It Gangsta X X 0
T.I. T.I. VS. T.I.P. (N=19) Act 1: T.I.P. 0 0 X
Big Shot Poppin 0 X X
Hurt 0 0 X
Row 0 X 0
We Do This 0 X 0
Show It To Me 0 X 0
Hustlin’ 0 X 0
J Afr Am St (2011) 15:22–39 37

(continued)

Artist Album title Song Themes

Friends are Success by Loss of

family association friend

T.I. VS. T.I.P. Touchdown 0 X 0

50 Cent Curtis (N=17) I’ll Still Kill 0 X 0
Come and Go 0 X 0
Move On Up 0 X 0
Straight to the Bank 0 X 0
All of Me 0 X 0
2008 Compact Discs
Lil Wayne Tha Carter III You Ain’t Got X
(N=22) Nuthin On Me
I’m Me 0 X 0
Kush 0 X 0
Love Me or Hate Me 0 X 0
T.I. Paper Trail (N=16) 56 Bars X 0 0
Ready For Whatever 0 0 X
On Top of the World 0 X X
No Matter What 0 0 X
Swing Ya’ Rag 0 X 0
What’s Up, What’s 0 X 0
Happenin’
Every Chance I Get 0 X 0
Swagger Like Us 0 X 0
You Ain’t Missing 0 0 X
Nothing
Dead and Gone 0 0 X
Rich Ross Trilla (N=13) Speedin’ 0 X 0
This is Life 0 0 X
This Me 0 X 0
I’m Only Human X 0 0
Trilla 0 X 0
We Shinin’ 0 X 0
Billionaire 0 X 0
The Boss 0 X 0
Jay-Z American Gangsta American Dreamin’ 0 X 0
(N=14)
No Hook 0 X 0
Roc Boyz 0 X 0
Sweet 0 X 0
Say Hello X 0 X
Blue Magic 0 0 X
American Gangster 0 0 X
38 J Afr Am St (2011) 15:22–39

(continued)

Artist Album title Song Themes

Friends are Success by Loss of

family association friend

Young Jeezy The Recession (N=16) Crazy World X 0 0

What They Want 0 X 0
Hustlaz Ambition 0 X 0
Vacation 0 X 0
Put On X 0 0
Get A Lot 0 0 X
My President 0 X X

X means the theme is present in the song; 0 means the theme is not present in the song.
N is the total number of songs on a compact disc.

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