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As We Speak: Rap Music on Trial (2024)

Posted: 02/29/24 10:12
by bunniefuu
[turning radio dial,

indistinct chatter]

I am not

a finished product

Only judge me

when I'm done

[turning radio dial,

indistinct chatter]

Young and Black

and from the projects

n*gg*s from my hood

never left the jungle

Got a lot to overcome

Can rap lyrics be used

as evidence in court?

Nationwide,

rap lyrics are playing

an increasingly prominent

role in criminal cases.

Artists say that

current law violates

their First Amendment

right to freedom

of artistic expression.

Rappers k*ller Mike,

Chance the Rapper,

and Meek Mill asked the

U.S. Supreme Court to step in.

These trials

affect rap artists.

And, typically, there's

a r*cist element.

- This is all fiction.

- It's like seeing an actor.

Gangsta rap is what sells.

Rap is an expression to

reflect Black life in America.

Rapper Young Thug,

out of Atlanta, his case

now sparking the national

debate among lawyers...

And if you decide to admit

your crimes over a beat,

I'm going to use it.

[interposing voices]

[dramatic music]



Ain't nobody I can trust

My n*gg*s getting stuck

Cops throw 'em in a truck,

lock n*gg*s up

Circle getting

smaller every day

[cell phone rings]

Life's getting

shorter every day

One second, yo.

Tick, tick, tick, time's

ticking on your prime

Bun B, what's good?

- How you doing, man?

- Focused.

Just in the studio

working on some new shit.

Don't get

yourself into something

that you don't

really understand,

you know what I'm saying?

The way I see it,

I don't really have a choice.

We have to be careful

how we conduct ourselves, to

not give these m*therf*ckers

no amm*nit*on

because they already

make so many assumptions.

Yeah,

I hear what you saying.

Don't help

your enemies destroy you.

That's the best

advice I could say.

All right, OG.

Appreciate you looking out.

Peace.

I'm ready.

Roll the tape.



[indistinct chatter]

I was born in the Bronx,

New York,

the South Bronx,

Hunts Point, to be exact.

I knew I wanted to rap when

I was nine because my older

brother was rapping.

I just started doing it, too.

And I fell in love with it.

And I never stopped.

I met a guy.

He invited me to this class

that he does at this community

center at the Point.

He would come in

with a newspaper

and say, pick an article.

Write about it in 45 minutes.

What that did was got

me into the habit of...

And that is the

World Trade Center--

Analyzing what was

going on in the real world...

and being able

to make it into art.

I was saying things

that I didn't mean...

[chuckles] That I had

no experience in.

But the punch lines were crazy.

And so people was like, oh,

this guy, he got potential.

Trying to be a mark and

mocked for my penmanship

As I got older, rap became

a big part of who I am.

[crowd cheering]

And the Kendrick

thing happened.

Make some noise

for Kemba, man.

Remember that

motherfuckin' name, Kemba.

People that come

from communities...

like I do...

they don't see

many options, you know?

Rap is one of the most

attainable things to them,

to us.

"The role of the artist

is exactly the same

"as the role of the lover.

"If I love you, I have to make

you conscious of the things

you don't see."

James Baldwin.

Writing lyrics is

just like me saying,

how do I want you

to feel right now?

[indistinct chatter]

Picture Langston

flipping language

Dipped in royal garbs

Marcus Garvey did the Garden

in embroidered scarves

Politicians tried to hop the

fence and fought the guards

Tossed from Zion, all we

sighted was a fallen star

Listen, I've made my wishes

From stolen gold

and scolded women

My shit's afflicted

I'm going cold and

growing distant

I've gone the distance

Saw the unknown

and wasn't flinching

I've grown indifferent

I'm on a mission

I'ma beat this beat

till it caves in

Make my team

full of made men

You're trying to look

up for a spaceship

We're trying to catch

up to the cavemen



In most music, but

especially in rap music,

you get people talking

about their experiences.

You get people

trying to come out

of those difficult

places they grow up in

by telling the world

what's happening there.

And it's been like that

since the beginning of rap.



I would love to hear people's

experiences of what it's like

to have that

twisted against them,

with the stakes being as high

as the loss of your freedom.

You know, music has been

the thing I could hold on to

when everything

was out of control.

And I feel like...

[clicks tongue]

I feel an obligation

to it, too.

Are we really in danger?

If so, I got to keep

things off the grid.

I think I know just the thing.

[speaking Patois]

Then I'm gonna grease up

my fingertips then, man.

Hi.

That's the 2-way.

Blame me,

I tried to hit those

Ooh, you got a 2-way.

Look at the hurt in your

eyes, they squint closed

Pimpin', here's a

new way to flirt

Listen to the 2-way alert,

it goes

[device beeping]

Can I get this one?

You want this?

Yeah, that's the one.

Boss, I just come back

from the time of Nazareth

to find this thing.

This is a 2-way.

You sure this is what

you want, my brother?

Yes, sir.

No social media, no

Instagram, no Facebook--

Can't call your mama.

Can't call your girlfriend.

$39.99.

My respect.

Looking after us--

[indistinct chatter]

Cool.

All right,

I'm under the radar.

I got to talk to

some other artists,

see what to make of this

whole "rap on trial" thing.

Way before the trial of

Young Thug making headlines,

the city of Atlanta

carved a place in hip-hop

that was unique.

At a time when the East Coast

and West Coast dominated

the airwaves, two

20-year-olds from Georgia

who went by the name OutKast,

said what a lot of people

below the Mason-Dixon Line

was thinking.

And I got a feeling,

even today, the South

got something to say.

That's all I got to say.

[device chimes, vibrates]

Not many artists have been

as outspoken about protecting

our rights as k*ller Mike,

whose moms was once a hustler

and his pops a policeman.

Mike, my guy.

- Bro. What up, man?

- Great to see you.

- Man, bless you.

Yes, sir, yes, sir.

We are the murderous pair

That went to jail

And we m*rder*d

the murderers there

Then went to hell

and discovered

The Devil delivered

some hurt and despair

How do you feel

about that name

now in the context of

the criminalization

of rap music and lyrics?

I love my name

because I earned it.

I didn't seek to

be k*ller Mike.

It was bestowed upon

me after a battle.

I wouldn't have gave myself

that name because it's

damn near crazy for

a Black man to call

himself k*ller something.

- I feel that.

I just knew that it

was important for me

that I express

myself through art.

And I went to school during the

Reagan era and the expl*si*n

of the crack epidemic.

Rap validated that

I wasn't insane.

As a kid, I'm seeing

things that people

aren't acknowledging.

You know, Nancy Reagan

with that "just say no" shit,

like, get the f*ck

out of here.

I know that my neighbor, who

used to have a great job,

should not be standing

on a corner this year.

So this is

beyond "just say no."

This is an epidemic of sorts.

And rap is the only thing

that validated that.

When Ice said, 6:00 in the

morning, police at my door,

fresh Adidas squeak

across the bathroom floor,

out the back windows

where I made my escape,

didn't even have the chance

to grab my old-school tape.

When I heard that

right now, I still

get chills because

that's actually

the life that I started to see

Black teenage boys leading.

And no one was acknowledging

that except for rappers.

Can lyrics like that ever be

understood in the courtroom?

They're not going

to say that the art

is simply a representation

of the imagination

and the thought.

They're going to say, it's you.

You are a k*ller, Mike.

And we're going to

lock your ass up.

It's a shame that

we live in a country

where a white woman

who k*lled her husband

can write an article called

"How to k*ll Your Husband."

And that article is

not allowed to be used.

And the prosecutor had to find

another way to convict her.

But I could randomly say

some stupid shit in a song.

And some prosecutor can

clumsily, with no rhythm,

say that shit to a judge

as though he knows what

the f*ck I'm talking about,

has some type of expertise

over the things

I'm talking about,

or, somehow, what I'm

talking about is not art.

What scares me, though, is

the criminalization of hip-hop

is not new.

It's an old tactic.

It's just about

criminalization of Blackness.

It's nothing more than

a sleight-of-hand trick.

If I can keep you believing

that these people

are criminals,

you never wonder,

why does criminality exist,

or where is it coming from?

I got my heart broke

The pain really

made me famous

Betrayal from

the closest folk

Really made me dangerous

I lost too many loved ones

Now these b*ll*ts nameless

I think I'd much

rather be rich

But life's a b*tch,

so f*ck it

Been living cursed

since the birth

How'd I get so lucky?

Heard if you struggle, that

just mean that God loves you

Guess she loves me lots

Y'all was

scared of heights

I was fearless

on the mountain

I made moves over the

years with no announcements

Ambidextrous, I can sh**t

it with my left wrist

They know it's going in

like I'm on the guest list

Hold on, hold on.



Who chooses

where they're born?

Or the hand they were dealt?

It's been said that

we're living in an idea

from another man's mind.

But who's the man?

And how long has

he thought of us as criminals?

[distant singing]

sl*ve songs.

On the Middle Passage

to America,

enslaved Africans

would sing in languages

their European captors

couldn't understand.

During a time of

hopelessness and grief,

lyrics were their way

of secret communication.

Not long after the ancestors

landed on American shores,

their music inspired

an uprising--

the Stono Rebellion of 1739,

the largest sl*ve revolt

in the British colonies.

A band of slaves marched

toward freedom

in Spanish Florida,

k*lling their masters

while pounding drums

and shouting a song

of liberty.

But before reaching

their destination,

they were cornered, ex*cuted.

South Carolina

passed the n*gro Act,

which outlawed the drum,

an instrument

plantation owners called

a dangerous tool of rebellion.

sl*ve owners demanded

that the slaves,

"make a noise whenever

the work went silent."

Without drums, they used

their bodies to keep rhythm.

They sang improvised verses

to ridicule their overseers

and share dreams of

escape and freedom.

[distant singing]

The blues emerged

from those same work songs

and field hollers.

The Civil w*r had just ended,

but the promise of freedom,

40 acres and a mule,

was broken.

Blues lyrics overflowed

with frustration

during a time of

state-enforced segregation,

also known as Jim Crow.

Then in the 1920s, a new wave

of criminalized music, jazz,

took over the U.S.

by way of New Orleans.

The jazz art form was crafted

in brothels and speakeasies,

where gangsters like

Al Capone fought to get

the best Black performers.

As jazz got even more popular,

so did attempts to censor

the sound that they

called Devil's music.

Just when they thought

it couldn't get any worse,

in came rock and roll.

Many people coming

from miles around to hear...

Teenage savages go

wild in a juvenile jungle

of lust and lawlessness.

Go, Johnny, go

It's vulgar, animalistic

n*gg*r rock and roll bop.

Ain't that a shame?

You're the one...

It is a contributing factor

to our juvenile delinquency

of today.

Tutti frutti, oh, rootie

If you talk to the

average teenager of today

and you ask them what it is

about rock-and-roll music

that they like, the

first thing they'll say

is the beat, the

beat, the beat.

Rain all day,

rain all night

Rock and roll is

a means by which

the white man and his

children can be driven

to the level with the n*gg*r*s.

But the sound

could not be stopped.

Baby, baby, where you is?

[crowd cheering]

In the late 1950s

into the mid '70s,

soul music exploded

onto the scene.

Mr. James Brown!

Baby

It was the soundtrack

of Black Power, Black pride,

despite the brutality

of the police.

James Brown sang,

say it loud,

I'm Black, and I'm proud

four months

after Martin Luther King Jr.

was assassinated.

Know how it goes?

It goes one, two, three.

And here we go, here we go

Here we go, here we go,

here we, here we go

It was only five years later

that DJ Kool Herc

threw a back-to-school jam

in the abandoned borough

of the Bronx,

which became known

as the birthplace of hip-hop.

[rapping indistinctly]

But it didn't take long

for the music to make enemies.

Politicians were furious,

saying the songs

encouraged v*olence.

They accused rappers of

trying to incite crime.

[g*nshots]

[choir vocalizing]

And just like all the Black

genres that came before it...

You never thought

that hip-hop...

Hip-hop was destined

for a battle

with the American

political system.

Okay.

We are asking the recording

industry to assist parents

by placing a warning

label on music products

inappropriate for

younger children.

Beginning in July, this label

will appear on the lower

right-hand corner

at the discretion

of record companies

and individual artists.

- More than a dozen

states want to include

the parental-advisory label in

their definition of obscenity,

which makes performing

or selling

controversial rap music

a felony.

2 Live Crew went on trial

in Fort Lauderdale, Florida,

on Tuesday, charged

with singing obscene songs

during a nightclub performance

last June.

Key to the prosecution's

case in this trial

was proving that

the Crew's material

had no artistic or

political value.

Would you ban your children

from listening to him?

Oh, absolutely.

Absolutely.

I just can't buy it.

I don't want them exposed--

But your kids don't live

in South Central Los Angeles.

387 of your kids

didn't die last year.

My audience isn't your kids.

If they are, they want to know

what's going on

in my neighborhood.



I used to pass two mobile

police stops every day walking

to the train station

in the middle

of the stop-and-frisk era.

The more you left your crib,

the higher the chances

of getting locked up.

Even a wrong look at the cops

could land me a day in court.

The elders used to tell us,

do exactly what they say--

whatever it takes

to make it back home.

But not all of us

are that lucky.

I heard rumors about a rapper

signed to Master P's No Limit

who spent most of

his life in prison

for some lyrics he

wrote in the '90s.

Maybe he could set

the record straight.

You say the

green stimulates you

The white motivates you

Brown makes you

feel that heaven awaits you

I really can't relate,

dude, but let us pray

Our Father,

who art in heaven

I know you love me

more than this MAC-11

I carry for my protection

If so, then let the enemy

wander in your direction

I promise to k*ll infection

while seeking perfection

No question

Society is attracted

to v*olence.

These artists are

basically trying

to capitalize on

the same appetite

for that type of content.

The lyrics that you wrote

being used against you,

how did that feel?

They actually spliced

the lyrics

of two different

songs together.

One of them is

called "Shell Shock."

The other one is

called "m*rda, m*rda."

"m*rda, m*rda, k*ll, k*ll" was

a battle rap.

And "Shell Shock," I make

a line about my father,

who was a Vietnam vet.

He gave me his name,

he gave me the game

And if you eff with me, he'll

put a b*llet in your brain

The prosecutor said,

m*rder, m*rder, k*ll, k*ll.

Eff with me, and I will

put a b*llet in your brain.

Those are the words

of this young man.

And he pointed at

me in the courtroom.

And they said, 30 years.

And I was just like, damn.

I never believed that I would

literally be found guilty

without no evidence.

I'm talking about there was no

g*n linking me to the crime.

All the witnesses

had changed their stories

and recanted what they said.

And you had a person that

actually confessed to it.

And yet I still

was found guilty.

So I just was like,

man, this is--

this is not how this works.

I spent all my 20s, all my

30s,

and half of the 40s in there.

- Wow.

[emotional music]



Get ready.

Get ready.



I got to talk to

someone on the inside,

someone who's defended rappers

in an actual courtroom.

Hi.

- Hi.

- Kemba.

- Alexandra Kazarian.

Nice to meet you.

- Thanks for taking the time.

Yeah, no problem.

Here you go,

in case you need it.

So I've been trying to

get down to the bottom of,

like, how we got here,

why rap music is on trial.

And I'm curious of what

your perspective is as

a criminal defense attorney.

Well, you're

a rap artist, right?

Yeah.

Innocent, I swear I'm

innocent for my own benefit

It's mind control

As soon as God forgive me,

I'ma sin again

Well, let's assume

a hypothetical.

Okay?

- Okay.

Let's say that

you're in the Bronx.

And a couple subway

stops south of you,

there's a convenience-store

robbery and a homicide.

Somebody dies

during this robbery.

And let's say

you're implicated.

Somebody says that

they saw you there.

So you're arrested.

And you're charged with

being part of that m*rder.

So I'm arrested.

Then what?

What's next?

So, while you're

in custody, police officers,

the investigators, they're

going to go to your house.

They're going to

find your computer.

They have your phone already.

They're going to comb

through your social media.

They're going to find every

song, every lyric, every video

that you've ever

been involved with.

And they're going to use

that as evidence against you.

But I've never rapped about

robbing a convenience store.

How could they even use it?

They're going to take

every single lyric.

And they're going

to rip it apart.

If they can prove to

the jury that you're

the kind of person, that you

have the kind of character

to be involved in

something like this,

then it makes it a lot easier

for the jury to vote guilty.

Is innocent until proven

guilty a real thing?

Clients will ask their

lawyer to get them

the best deal possible,

even if they're innocent,

because the idea of putting

your entire fate in the system

is just too much

for people to bear.

So, if there's a plea deal,

a lot of times people will say,

I will sacrifice

two years of my life

for something

that I had nothing to do with

because I don't trust

the system

to realize that it wasn't me.

Only 1% of cases

actually go to trial.

And when the trial starts,

that's when the w*r begins.

Is that what you want?

When you fighting

a system this big,

is it even worth writing?

When we're talking

about any criminal case,

we're talking

about the government,

the power of the entire

government--its finances,

its authority, its police--

against a single person.

In law enforcement,

you have police,

who are trying to prevent

crime or arrest people for it.

And then you have

prosecutors, DA, who are

actually trying those cases.

And the prosecutors

are only supposed

to bring honest,

good-faith cases

that they believe they can win

at the standard

of beyond a reasonable doubt.

A lot of mass incarceration,

racialized mass incarceration,

what people call

the new Jim Crow,

is a product of prosecutors.

Prosecutors went from

prosecuting roughly one

out of three cases that

came into their offices

as felonies in the

early '80s and the '70s,

to two out of three.

You just do the math on that,

and you have an expl*si*n

in the prison

population being driven

by more punitive prosecutors.

There is no tool that they

will turn down

if it will raise

their conviction rate.

It's not about justice.

We talk about the culture

of police.

There's a culture in

prosecutors' offices, too.

Most people in America

can't afford a private lawyer

for a full criminal trial.

So that immediately takes

something that is described as,

you have all these rights, and

you get your Miranda rights,

and you have a right to

a lawyer, that's all in theory.

You have the right

to remain silent.

Anything you say

can and will be used

against you in a court of law.

You have the right

to an attorney.

If you cannot

afford an attorney,

one will be provided for you.

And in practice,

the lawyer you have a right to

is probably going to

be a public defender.

We don't resource them the

way we resource the police,

the prosecutors, the bench.

And so you have

public defenders

with 100 cases

on their docket.

What an artist is

walking into is essentially

a prosecutor saying,

this artistic expression

is actually some

form of a confession.

And there's nobody there

to provide the reality

that that isn't what's

happening at all.

So you've got a jury of

12 people,

many of whom are probably not

familiar with rap music.

Then a prosecutor

encourages jurors to read

rap lyrics as autobiography.

That's very, very dangerous

because we know,

you know, from all kinds

of empirical research

that rap is really prejudicial.

Rap is Black at its

core, at its roots,

where it originated from.

Prosecutors are not dumb.

They see this, and they know,

okay, here is a way

I can add a little something.

There's the study out of the--

I believe it's University

of California at Irvine.

[keys clacking]

My research examines the

consequences of stereotypes

about rap music.

And to do so, I conducted

a set of studies

where participants are asked

to read a set of lyrics

and then make judgments

about those lyrics

or about the person

that wrote those lyrics.

I varied the genre

label of those lyrics.

So participants either

learn that the music

is, for example, rap...

country, or heavy metal.

What they didn't know is

that everybody was reading

the same lyrics from

a 1960s folk song

called "Bad Man's Blunder."

- Well, early one morning,

I was rollin' around

I was feeling

kind of thirsty

So I headed for town...

- And so, after

reading those lyrics,

they were asked to evaluate

the lyrics across a number

of dimensions, right?

How offensive are the lyrics?

How threatening

are the lyrics?

"Early one evening,

I was rolling around."

"I was feeling kind of mean.

I shot a deputy down."

"Strollin' on home,

and I went to bed.

Well, I laid me a p*stol up

under my head."

Most importantly, they

were asked, how literal

are these lyrics, right?

Were these lyrics based off

of the songwriter's real life?

"The judge

was an old man, 93."

- "93."

- "93.

And I didn't like the way

the jury looked at me."

"I think

they were suspicious.

"The judge and the

jury, they did agree.

They all said m*rder

in the first degree."

How likable is

the songwriter?

How intelligent

is the songwriter?

How aggressive is

the songwriter?

"You got

a point there, judge.

It was a most

unsatisfactory trial."

"They gave me 99 years."

"99 years"...

both:

"On a hard rock pile."

"90 and 9 on

the hard rock ground."

"All I ever did was

sh**t a deputy down."

How likely is it

that the songwriter

is involved

in criminal activity?

How likely is it

the songwriter

is involved in a g*ng?

"This whole thing sure

has been a lesson to me."

- "Bang."

- "Bang."

"Bang."

both:

"You're dead."

People are a lot more aware

that they shouldn't say

explicitly r*cist things, right?

So if you say, hey, here's

a Black guy making music,

there's a chance

that they're going

to say, no,

especially in a study,

you're not going to trick me.

I'm not going to

respond in a way

where you think I'm r*cist.

But if you use rap as kind of

a cue, right, a cue to race,

right, that's where

the mind goes.

It's kind of using rap

music to fill in the blanks.

You know, okay, so I'm not

going to judge this person

because of their race

but because of their music.

What we found in that study is

that the songwriter was viewed

as having worse character and

a greater criminal propensity

if his lyrics were described

as rap music,

compared to country

or heavy metal.

Because we're supposed to

always be so authentic

or so real, I think, you know,

rap lyrics and hip-hop lyrics

are definitely taken

more literally than most

other forms of music...

And not be held

to the same standards.

Because, obviously, the

environment we come from,

and so many of us make the

claim that this is real,

or we're real.

- Race is central to

rap lyrics on trial.

Juries will jump

to a conclusion

that, hey, this

person's guilty.

These rap lyrics,

if they're not

confessional to

this crime, they're

confessional to other crimes.

So there's really

no harm in finding him guilty

because he's

definitely guilty of something.

[chuckles] You know, I hate

to say it,

but I'm going to say

it straight--it's racism.

And prosecutors, they

have trainings on it.

It has a really negative,

pernicious effect

on individuals

trying just to get

a fair trial in our courts.

Straight outta Compton

That's the way it goes in

the city of Compton, boy.

Los Angeles,

the stomping ground

of NWA, Snoop Dogg, 2Pac.

New York rappers were

the definition of cool.

But L.A. was just raw.

[g*n cocks]

In the 1950s, the city

recruited its police force

from the Jim Crow South.

They were dead set

on being segregated.

So what did the people do?

The Watts Riots, 1965.

They burned that

m*therf*cker down.

The LAPD had a bad reputation.

And gangsta rap told

us all about it.

It was f*ck the police,

straight up.

The image wasn't tailor-made

to look cool.

And that's exactly why it was.

This is the city that

made Glasses Malone.

Title Glasses, man

and the myth, yep

Not the same rapper rolling

grams in the spliff, yep

He the type of trapper

go to tams in the 16

- You from around here, right?

- From Watts.

- Out where?

- Born and raised,

Compton and Watts

my whole life, man.

Was music big in the--

in the neighborhood

where you from?

My mom was a super

music head, dog.

My mom put me on E-40.

My mom put me

on Above the Law.

My mom put me on LL Cool J.

Was the g*ng culture big

when you was growing up?

It come with the territory,

you know what I'm saying?

Like, it's just what you do.

If you grew up

in the community,

these are your friends.

If you go somewhere and

somebody jump on your friends,

you stand up for your

friends, you know I mean?

You don't have a ton of

trust in the legal system.

So you pretty much deal

with justice in your own way

in the community.

- Right.

I'm a 7th Street Watts Crip.

How did you get into music?

All the stuff we was

going through as g*ng members,

the mic became

like my therapist.

And every time I made a

song about what was going on

around the way that was

really troubling me,

I felt instantly

better about it.

And if I did it really well

at the highest level,

people can really be

emotionally moved.

It didn't matter if

it was good or bad.

- Really?

- It was just greatness.

It was powerful to tell people

this is how it is being us.

This is how it is being me.

This is what, you know,

we as a culture value--

our reputation,

you know what I mean?

Like, how are you

going to treat us?

You going to disrespect

us and beat us up,

I don't care if you're

the Pope and 20 priests.

Somebody going to

get shot that day.

[cash register bell dings]

So what do you think it

is that people want to see?

What do people get from it?

They want to go

into the lion cage.

- Go into the lion's cage?

- You know what I'm saying?

Like, where we from

is the lion cage.

Like, we from the zoo to them.

Man, if you live

in Newport Beach,

Compton don't exist,

Watts don't exist.

- Yeah.

- They want that journey.

Los Angeles was

also home to a rapper

that shared his name with

a scribe from ancient Greece.

Beloved by his

people, he was crushed

to death by the same crowd

that sang his praises.

His name was Drakeo the Ruler.



crowd: [chanting]

Drakeo.

Drakeo.

People love Drakeo, man.

Those guys created

this industry,

just out of a change

in the sound--

you know, slowing things down.

Their impact on Los Angeles

is undeniable.

Some of the most influential

artists in the last 10 years,

for sure.

Drakeo, because

of the style of music he made,

the style of artist

that he was,

he definitely drew lines

and created bridges between

Detroit, Los Angeles, Oakland.

Drakeo had sort of

the United Nations

of gangs around him.

He did not exclude people.

He had people that were from

the Crips, from the Bloods,

from the Jungles,

from everywhere.

And it just so happened

that he was at this party.

Two of the people that

were with him were Crips.

And they saw a member

of a Blood faction

that they were warring with.

And they shot

and k*lled somebody.

It's a classic L.A. g*ng

story as old as time.

Prosecutors are not

supposed to introduce

character evidence.

Character evidence...

evidence on an individual's

personality traits,

propensities,

or moral standing.

So, when they

introduce rap lyrics,

to avoid being seen

as if they are introducing

character evidence,

they have to

find other justifications

for using the lyrics.

In the Drakeo case,

they were using

lyrics in a bizarre way.

There was a lyric he had

where he talks about,

I've got RJ tied

up in the back.

And RJ refers to

a rival rapper.

That lyric was used in order

to demonstrate that Drakeo

had animosity and

motive to orchestrate

a hit on a rival rapper.

Worth noting that

that rival rapper

has said repeatedly that he

did not think that Drakeo

was trying to k*ll him.

They knew who

the m*rder*r was.

It was not a mystery.

They had jailhouse recordings.

They had an informant.

But they wanted Drakeo.

Drakeo was the big prize.

Young and up-and-coming rapper

goes to prison for m*rder.

The case was incredibly weak.

Particularly in a

case that's high profile

or politically charged,

prosecutors are going to pursue

a conviction.

They're going to make a case,

whether or not they really

have the evidence or not.

They feel pressure

from their superiors,

from their constituents

to bring justice.

But if they don't have

compelling evidence of guilt,

what are they going to do?

Well, what they've decided

to do in case after case

is bring in rap lyrics.

Even though it's

not a just outcome,

it is a favorable one

from their point of view.

After his first trial, where

he was acquitted on most

of the serious

charges against him,

most prosecutors at that point,

most DAs are not going to

refile that case.

They've just lost.



Because of how the

L.A. Sheriff's Department

got portrayed,

how the DA's office

got portrayed through some

of the media in that trial,

he was getting retried,

put on trial for

his life because he

had upset the powers

that be in Los Angeles.

Once they got him in there,

they kept him in solitary

for nine months.

The way he was mistreated

and the system was abused,

people were paying attention.

That really changed

the narrative

and the nature of the story.

He made an album

with his producer,

just rapping through a jail

phone, that actually got

critical acclaim,

and called it

"Thank You For Using GTL,"

which is Global Tel Link,

which everybody in the criminal

justice system knows

is how people in custody

call out.

The steel bars

weren't enough to cage

his artistic expression.

At that time, the district

attorney in L.A. County

was Jackie Lacey.

She was facing a challenge

from a more progressive

prosecutor, George Gascn.

When Gascn defeated

her in election,

Drakeo was literally

released the next day.

They saw that they

had a weak case

that they might lose at trial.

Big loss like that,

a public loss,

a media loss for a prosecutor's

office is not a good look.

That prosecutor's office

knew that he was not

going to put up

with this nonsense,

and he was not going to

continue to waste people's time

and money going after somebody

who was clearly not guilty.

[laughter]

The stakes in this story

is the power of art

to change hearts and minds,

and whether the police,

the state

can come in and

police imaginations,

police artistic expression.

To take this art form

away from these street griots

is to really crush

political speech.



Every time I speak,

I want the truth to come out.

And even if I get in trouble,

you know what I'm saying?

Ain't that what

we're supposed to do?

I'm not saying I'm

going to rule the world

or I'm going to

change the world.

But I guarantee that

I will spark the brain

that will change the world.

And that's our job,

is to spark

somebody else watching us.

[tape deck clicks]

Censored.

g*dd*mn.

[indistinct chatter]

Lack of experience.

Lack of experience

with the blacks.

Maybe the accent--

[device chimes, vibrates]

Tupac's first manager,

Leila, discovered him

as a teenage poet

in her living room.

So I thought

I'd swing through.

Hi, guys.

Thank you all for coming.

[laughter]

Well, it's going to be a

good night tonight, you know.

We'll see what happens.



Twice as dark,

not half as bright.

Born with natural light.

But to shine, we have to fight.

If I was the same

me 200 years ago,

my master might give me

long lashes,

like a beauty-shop transaction.

I would have my face beat

for not acting right.

I can't imagine.

I probably wouldn't

last a night.

I honor ancestors

for their sacrifice,

'cause even if I make it

back to life,

I'm indebted in my afterlife.

Really can't grasp the plight.

400 years of atrocities

where masses died.

I don't use my voice

to spew hate

and bash the whites,

except that fascist type,

them bigots

with that MAGA hype.

They strategize Black demise,

proud of what that hat implies,

using fear as alibis

to sh**t us in our back.

And that's why I have to write.

One, because I have the right.

Two, because they

propagate Black narratives,

and one of us should

have it right.

Speak my truth,

combat the lies.

It's poetry with passion.

I ain't rapping just

to pass the time.

Businessmen seek

power through politics.

Tell us, play sports

to get scholarships.

Tell me the line of thinking

if you follow it.

Who can do more, the DA

or Colin Kaepernick?

Who the n*gga in charge

when they cap a n*gga?

Don't need a street sign

saying Black Lives Matter.

Need justice for Breonna,

judges we can honor,

attorney generals that

hold coppers by the collar

and cops that know color

ain't cousin to corruption.

Prosecutors functioning

less like persecutors,

press cops to sh**t us.

Put they ass in prison.

Everybody marching,

pursuing power positions

more than signing a petition

and praying somebody listening.

I ain't trying to chase

dollars to maintain.

I'm trying to raise scholars to

take over the whole game.

Pick somebody, anybody

and look them in the eye.

And you'll see pain,

full of questions.

And the first one being why.

[echoing] Kemba...

Kemba...

this is your only chance

to take this plea deal.

But if I did

take the plea deal,

I would have to

say that I did it.

Yeah. Essentially, you would

have to lie

and say that you were involved.

So you plead guilty,

that's on your record forever.

Yeah, I don't

want to do that.

[chuckles]

I'm not taking the plea deal.

I think I'll beat the case.

Okay.

Follow me.

I want to show you something.

When I got dropped,

forgotten by your man



So this is where

it all goes down?

Yeah, in places just like

this all over the country.



That's your public defender.

You're going to sit

right next to her.

This is probably one

of the first real times

that she's had to really

deep-dive into your case.

She's got 100 cases

on her caseload,

and she's the only person

in this courtroom

that's on your side.

But what about you?

Why I can't have

you as an attorney?

15 years ago, that public

defender would have been me.

But today...

do you have a $150,000 check

to start working on your case?

Not a lot of people do.



That's the prosecutor?

Yeah.



You don't think

I could just go in there

and explain my side?

Absolutely not.

You need to be stoic.

You cannot talk to the judge.

You cannot talk

to the prosecutor.

You absolutely cannot talk

to the jury.

You have to let your lawyer be

your voice.

The jury thinks

you're panicking,

they're going to look at it

like you're guilty.

You're taking the risk

of never getting out.

Are you absolutely sure

that you'd rather go to trial

than take a plea deal?



Choosing whether

to fall on the sword

for the sake of your art is

not always black and white.



Some people put on the music

because they want a peek

inside the lion's cage,

listening at a safe distance.

But in some places, that's

not always an option.

A producer named King Louie

invented the term Chiraq

and, along with it,

a bold new sound

that broke through the surface

of South Chicago.

all:

Nobody knows

The trouble I've seen

Not this sound.

This is just some

good gospel shit.

But we'll get back to that.

Nah, they called

it drill music.

And the politicians were

hell-bent

on stopping a movement

that they had helped create.

These hoes love

Chief Sosa

In Chicago today,

one of the high-rise buildings

in a notorious housing project

has been demolished.

Cabrini-Green has

been called the worst

project in the nation.

To begin, the projects

were isolated by race.

Politicians did not want

Blacks in their community.

No matter how terrible

the conditions now,

many Cabrini residents fear

the future they don't know.

If we take a look at the

demolishment of the projects,

the housing projects

here in Chicago,

there was never a plan.

These were huge

high-rise projects that

housed thousands of people.

Once the projects

got torn down,

the gangs within those

projects were also fractured.

And so there really

was no g*ng structure.

But there were only

certain neighborhoods

that people from the projects

would be able to move into.

Because you are trying

to group

all of these young people

from different gangs,

from different neighborhoods,

we start to see this uptick

in v*olence happening

on public transportation.

Young people have these

intergenerational connections

to gangs that they

just kind of inherited.

They were born into

a GD faction or a BD faction.

G Herbo, he talked

about how difficult it was

for him to get to school

at 7:00 in the morning.

That is not a safe time.

They think it's sweet

for you to get on a bus

and go to school.

But people that

are street involved

know that that's the time

that you can catch

somebody out on the street.

You just start to see these

things continue to play out,

to the point where

some young people start

dropping out of school

and, you know, just stop going

because of safety reasons.

And they just become

more street involved.

As we started to see, you know,

the Internet era take off,

social-media platforms

take off,

we also see that young people

are finding a need to discuss

what's happening

in their neighborhood.

And as we started to see more

young people

enter the rap game,

we see them implement

discussions about, you know,

things that are happening

within their neighborhood,

areas that

are not safe to travel in.

We see the threats

and retaliatory lyrics

come into play,

creating this

kind of perfect storm

for where we are

today with rap.



Drill music, in my opinion,

is just a very raw,

gritty sound of survival.

A lot of people

refer to drill music

as block music or hood music.

And that's really where

it got its origins.

Fake Shore Drive

is the music blog

that I created in 2007.

Drill came in and

was a huge disruptor,

just because it

happened really fast.

Right before that time

was, you got to pay dues.

You got to come through the

open-mic circuit in Chicago.

You got to play at these

venues and work your way up.

You got to kind of wait

your turn, in a way.

These kids did not

wait their turn.

It was like, let's

just get this stuff out

as fast as we can

and then do it again

and then multiply it.

The views just kept climbing.

I think they understood

what their fan base wanted.

And they delivered it to them.

We start to see, you know,

people with smartphones

making videos.

They used what means they had

that were accessible to them

to paint a picture

of what was actually

happening around them.

At that moment,

in 2012, 2013,

you could get

on the train in Chicago,

and there would be kids

huddled around a phone.

And they would be playing

Chief Keef videos.

[keys clacking]

That's that

shit I don't like

Yeah, don't like

You have this kid making

videos in his grandmother's

living room with

a bunch of guys

hanging out with

a bunch of weapons.

Other young people in

Chicago seeing, like,

wow...

he lives in a neighborhood

that looks just like mine.

And that's one

of the first times

that I really noticed cars

driving down the street.

And, like, every car--

didn't matter the race of

the person who was driving it.

Everybody was

playing that song.

It was raw.

It was real.

It was not, like, vetted by

a major label or a publicist.

You really start

to see this popularity

of creating drill music

as a means to try

to make a way out of the hood.

Once "I Don't Like"

happens, game over.

My phone is ringing

literally every day.

People I hadn't talked to

in years,

people who laughed in my face

about the Chicago scene

or artists that I would send

them were calling me,

begging me to introduce them

to Chief Keef

or their management.

We can't get Keef.

Who sounds like Keef?

Who could we get that

sounds like Chief Keef

that we could sign?



Man, it was just such

a feeding frenzy.

Money was getting

thrown around then.

Drill was what kicked the

doors down and made everybody

come here and, like, really

pay attention to what was

happening in the local scene.

We start to see individuals

already having a following.

And so, for a record label, it

would be very enticing to work

with an artist that already

has videos with tons of views

and streams.

You know, the more

violent the individual is,

the more people are tuned in,

commenting, liking.

Some of these fans are

really fanning the flames.

On the outside looking in

into some of these message

boards and YouTube videos,

it's like, people are

treating these artists

like they're not real people

with real families,

in real situations.

It's almost like they're

Marvel Cinematic Universe

characters.

You have the people

that are onlookers that

are, you know, tapping in

for entertainment

and just to engage in...

poverty voyeurism.

Once the public forms

a perception of you

and you're aware

of that, it's hard

not to play into those

roles that the public

creates for you.

There's some kids that

probably, at one point,

were sh**ting and

robbing and, you know,

going on drills, on their ops

and all that shit.

But then there's

a bunch of kids

that could articulate

that better than the kids

who actually are doing it.

And it becomes part

of their music.

[school bell rings]

In 2010, a rapper

by the name of Pac Man

dropped a song called

"It's A Drill."

It' a drill,

it's a drill

And a subgenre was born.

Hey, man, you know this

is Pac Man, Mr. Dro City.

- Sadly, he was taken from us

by the same reality

he was trying to depict.

I had to speak to his fam,

some of the original

drill rappers,

figure out if they think

the music is worth the risk.

Back

and we doing numbers

My n*gg*s help me

sweep the board

Like I'm with the Thunder

I know some n*gg*s from my

hood never leave the jungle

They say they

tryin' to see the world

But they Stevie Wonder,

can only wonder

The meeting is at 4:00,

but I'll be late, deadass

I had to blame it

on the MTA, deadass

Ozzy called to hit

me with the yerrr

So I hit him

with the yerrr

Said we been through

all the worst

We about to break

the curse

I got n*gg*s on my jack,

asking me to do a verse

Either debit, or it's cash

How do y'all feel like

the environment influences

the music that's being made?

There isn't any guidance

or structure out here.

Like, all of the parents

and the grandparents

want to be 20 again.

They so caught up in wanting

to party because that's

the way we was taught to deal

with trauma and pain,

was to get f*cked up

and party.

- Mm-hmm.

When we mad or try

to work something out,

everybody want to be on

the pedestal of being tough.

Why would they

rap about v*olence,

though, in the music?

- Because--

- It's their environment.

- That's all they seen.

- That's the environment.

- That's all we know.

It's like, I can't

rap about Miami

if I never been on the beach.

- Right.

I can't rap and say, yeah,

I'm on the beach kicking sand.

I never been on the beach

kicking no sand.

That's all they see, bro.

I see k*lling every day

when I walk out.

So it's like, this

is what we see.

And then we see that

people is making it

off just rapping they life.

This is my life.

I ain't tell nothing fake.

So with hustling come

everything with the streets.

You can't just pick

the hustle and say,

you going to escape

the v*olence.

It don't work like that.

The music is the

soundtrack to the shit.

Mm-hmm.

Like, I don't want to hear

no f*cking Ja Rule.

I don't want to hear no--

Even 50 Cent.

Like, I'm watching

50 Cent get rich.

But when I put on "Sosa,"

when I put on anything

from Chicago,

they got Glocks in the video.

They got this--

- And now that's the move.

It touched everybody,

that this shit was going

on in their areas anyway.

How do y'all

feel about labels?

Is it a trust?

Is it a mistrust?

My mother was telling

me from day one,

give me a copy

of your contract.

I hid it from her

when I signed.

I'm fresh out of high school.

You want to sign me

here for $100,000?

That was a lot of money

in 2010, 2011, you know?

But they just

signing people off--

Actors.

You really a actor.

Well, law enforcement

is using rap lyrics

to convict people in court.

How do y'all feel about that?

Is it something that crosses

your mind when you writing?

Are you like, I'm

not going to say that?

- It's entertainment.

- Entertainment.

You know what I'm saying?

Nah, that shit

ain't entertainment.

A lot of that shit be real.

- Some of it is entertainment.

You rap the truth,

you deserve to go to jail.

Put it like that--

you rap the truth,

you deserve to go to jail

for it 'cause you told.

You told on yourself.

That's like going and sitting

in the interview room.

You told.

It's all on tape.

Choices, bro.

It's choices.

That's kind of

like an oxymoron...

You choose to rap

about this shit.

because if you're not a

real rapper, people are going

to be like, you ain't real.

You rap about life

that ain't you.

And they go, ah, man,

you ain't rap about--

Nah.

It's a lot of people

out here doing that.

What's the difference from

you k*lling a m*therf*cker

in a movie and you making

a song on a soundtrack?

Or how is it that--

I might have had

a dream about some shit.

And I wake up, and I'm

storytelling in a song.

Boom.

You're going to

use that against me?

Just because you

say it in a song,

that don't mean you did it.

Now, let me

interject on that.

Entertainment.

You just compared

music to a movie, right?

All right, cool. You know what

happen at the end of a movie?

They give m*therf*ckers

they credits.

So, if a m*therf*cker

wrote this for you,

at the end of every rap video,

it should be

m*therf*cking credits.

This script was written

by the director.

This part played by who?

Hell, no.

Who the f*ck

thinking about putting a--

But I'm saying, though--did

we not just ask the question?

Is it not deep as hell

if law enforcement

using this to send

m*therf*ckers to jail?

Listen, who's thinking

about going to jail for making

a damn song and a video, man?

If I see the m*therf*cker

go to jail

for making a song or a video,

I'ma cover my ass.

The prop that I had

in "Go In" video,

they tried to use that against

me with a g*n case

that I caught, what,

a week or two later,

a g*n that I never seen in my

life, a g*n I never touched.

Yeah.

All because I was at the

wrong place at the wrong time.

The police always painted me

out as this, this, and that.

Like...

- 'Cause she's a rapper.

- Yeah.

- Yeah.

Before they had lyrics,

they had witnesses.

They ain't doing

their motherfuckin' work.

The k*lling and shit

would be at a minimum

if that was the case.

- [scoffs]

All the hopes

that people write about,

all the fears,

fantasies,

no wonder they can't figure

out which parts are fact

and which parts are

fiction in the music.

[raps indistinctly]

Either way, we're putting

ourselves in danger...



Because if all they

hear is evidence,

how much space does that leave

us to talk about our lives?



Black folks' intelligence

has been questioned

for generations.

And what you had in rap

is some Black kids bust

onto the cultural scene

with a kind of eloquence

and a kind of virtuosity

with the language

that was undeniable.

I first heard, coming out after

my constitutional law class,

somebody had a speaker

out their window.

And I heard,

"f*ck the police,

"comin' straight

from the underground,

"a young n*gga got it bad

'cause I'm Brown

"and not the other color,

so police think they have the

authority to k*ll a minority."

I heard political speech.

What gangsta rap

did was saying,

we reject the respectability

politics approach.

It's like a civil w*r

going on with Black people.

And there's two sides.

There's Black people,

and there's n*gg*s.

And n*gg*s have got to go.

Boy, I wish they'd let me

join the Ku Klux Klan.

Shit, I'd do a drive-by

from here to Brooklyn.

Tired of n*gg*s...

People like Chris Rock

are launching

their comedic career

in a routine like

"Bring the Pain" in '96, '97.

His core definition

of a so-called n*gga

is a Black criminal.

Up to 90% of the

young Black males

in some of these inner-city

neighborhoods

are going to wind up

in jail, on probation,

or on parole at some

point in their lives.

So we're saying up to 90%

of our own youth are n*gg*s?

We're ready to condemn them,

to morally condemn them

like that

because they got caught up

in the criminal-justice system?

Yes, that's how we were

thinking in the '90s.

And that's how many

of us still think.

A lot of these folks talk

about, I'm that criminal.

I'm from the life of crime.

So let me give you the

so-called n*gga perspective

and create sympathetic

identification

by bringing the people

a narrative

they haven't heard before.

That's the value of the music.

Hold up.

Let's take it back to

the original gangster stories

told in the English language.

Et tu, Brute?

[all gasp, murmuring]

My Master's degree is in

English Renaissance Literature

with a focus on Shakespeare.

[fanfare playing]



I see lots of ways

to compare Shakespeare

to contemporary rappers.

Shakespeare, he came

onto the scene in London.

He's an upstart

playwright and poet.

He would write for and

about the lower classes,

drawing attention

to their struggles.

Unlike many of his peers,

he does not have

the formal education.

He was bawdy.

He was funny, often hyper

violent in his plays.

He's accused of

plagiarizing, of stealing.

He took things from all

different directions

and assembled them in new

and unique and creative ways.

Anybody who's familiar

with rap music,

certainly during

the heyday of sampling,

remembers those same

criticisms of rappers.

And Shakespeare is credited

with introducing new words

to the English language.

Think about how our

everyday lexicon

has changed because of rap

artists doing similar things.

[dramatic music]

When it comes

to getting even,

not much has changed since

the time of Shakespeare.

The Chicago Teachers Union

boss, Karen Lewis,

put it this way...

The day is hot.

The Capulets are abroad.

And if we meet, we shall

not escape a brawl,

for now these hot days

is the mad blood stirring.

Thou art like

one of those fellows

that, when he enters

the confines of a bar,

slaps his g*n on

the table and says,

God, send me no need of this.

And by the second drink...

he draws it on the bartender...

when indeed there is no need.

Thou would quarrel

with a man that

hath a hair more or a hair less

in his beard than thou hast.

And did thou not fall

out with another for tying

his new shoes with old laces?

[chuckles]



By my head, here

comes a Capulet.



By my heel, I care not.

Follow me close, for

I will speak to them.



Gentlemen, good afternoon.

A word with one of you?

Tybalt keeps a cautious

distance with the members

of the Montague family.

The GDs and Vice Lords...

have fought for decades,

the original feud long

forgotten but kept

alive by each man's duty

to avenge their fallen kin.

And only one word

with one of us?

Couple it with something.

Make it a word and a blow.

You shall find me apt

enough to that, sir,

if you will give

me the opportunity.



We talk in the public view

of men.

Either withdraw unto

some private place

or reason calmly your

grievances or else depart.

Here all eyes gaze on us.



Men's eyes were made to look.

Let them gaze.

I will not budge

for no man's pleasure.

[g*nshots]

[high-pitched ringing]

It shouldn't be normal

to see people die

before their time...

yet here we are.

And when

we can't find meaning,

what more is there to do

but lift every voice and sing?

I've got an angel

Watching over me

[gospel music playing]

I've got an angel

Yes, I do, yes, I do

Watching over me



And my angel

Ooh, I know

I know I can't see

- Yeah. Yeah.

I got an angel,

yes, I do

- Say it.

- To watch over me

Yeah, yeah,

yeah, yeah, yeah

all:

I've got an angel

Yeah, watching

all:

Watching over me

Yeah, I got an angel

all:

I've got an angel

Yeah, yeah, what

is your angel doing?

all: Watching over me

- Yeah.

He got enough angels

to go all around

And my angel

all:

And my angel

Is there to protect me

all: Is there to protect me

I got an angel

all:

I've got an angel

Yeah, yeah, watching

over me, yeah

all:

I've got an angel

Yeah, yeah,

watching over me, yeah

all:

I've got an angel

Thank God for my angel

all:

I've got an angel

Yeah, yeah, he's

a-watchin' over me, yeah

all:

I've got an angel

What's he doing?

Watching over

all:

Watching over me

During the nighttime,

I got an angel

all:

Watching over me

I got an angel

all: Watching over me

Clap your hands

for your angel.

[applause]

- Hallelujah.

Clap your hands

for your angel.

Hallelujah.

Music is a healing force.

But can lyrics really

deliver us from the evils?

Or do they doom us

to repeat the past?

[device chimes, vibrates]

[bell dings]

Ladies and gentlemen,

the captain

has turned on

the "fasten seat belt" sign.

Thanks for flying with us.

IC3 on ITV

If I see you,

then I release

London.

Please release

all my Gs

My next door got IPP

She got a soft spot

for the gunmen

Man hit that shit

from the back

While I pull on her tracks,

babe, say West London

Let's have fun, then

[indistinct chatter]

This is the most

controversial sound

in Britain.

It's been called

dark and nihilistic.

The authorities have

linked a wave of v*olence

to an underground form of rap

music known as drill music.

After it left Chicago,

drill went global.

In the UK, labels

were sending gifts

to drill rappers in prison to

try and convince them to sign

before they even got out.

The Metropolitan Police

was paying close attention.

Meanwhile, in Brooklyn

and the Bronx,

drill rappers were

the new rock stars.

Fivio Foreign's

video for "Big Drip"

was pushing 85 million views.

Imagine my surprise

when I found out

how many of those

beats came from

a 19-year-old in East London.

Hey, Crip shit, hey

I heard they wanted to

ban New York drill, right?

Yeah, absolutely.

The mayor--

They tried to do

that in the UK as well.

- Did they?

- Yeah.

[laughs]

Tried to ban UK drill.

You know, they're

serious with it

when it comes to drill music--

take down videos,

banning artists.

That's why UK drill rappers,

they've got to hide their face.

- Like, literally wear a mask?

- Wear a mask.

- Oh, snap.

- It's crazy, man.

[hip-hop beat plays]

That's hard.

- [laughs]

- That's hard.

Gonna add that bass

coming in, dropped in here.



[rapping indistinctly]



[dramatic music]



- In the mid-2000s,

London was en route

to becoming one of

the most surveilled cities

in the world.

A lot of public space

was being privatized

under new Labour policies.

A lot of people in

the UK don't necessarily

realize the level

of surveillance that

is in operation by the state.

Surveillance in the UK

is actually quite normalized, scarily.

There are CCTV cameras

across urban areas,

in private and public spaces.

The UK is more

surveillance oriented

than almost any other country--

one of the most in the world.

And this has

a really detrimental

impact in court cases.

They have complete editorial

control in these cases.

So they can draw on the

bits of evidence they want,

leaving other things

on the cutting-room floor,

so to speak.

It's not just music videos

and lyrics, which we see

is used as evidence

in court now.

It can be social

media posts, captions,

comments on social media.

I've spoken with multiple

UK drill rappers and producers

who will say, oh, it's

almost like there's

a guy in the police, and

he's just paid to sit

there and watch our videos.

And there's a kind of awkward--

awkward moment where

I'm like, well, yeah,

that's actually true.

This kind of

state-sanctioned surveillance

is the modus operandi

of the biggest

police force in the UK.

I've worked in

cases where there'll

be a list of videos

which the prosecution are

seeking to rely on.

And there's reference

to them having been

sourced through Project Alpha.

To put it in the

most basic terms,

it assembles and then

monitors a database

tracking the online

lives, essentially,

of mostly young people.

And this involves scouring

social-media accounts,

but also, in particular,

YouTube.

This has increased

year on year

by hundreds of percent.

They have what's called

trusted-flagger status

with YouTube,

which means that the Met

has gone to YouTube

and made a case

for having

a higher level of authority

so that they can flag a video

that they say is harmful

or threatening

or inciting v*olence

or being possibly connected

to an ongoing case.

And the video will

be taken down.

There's no real evidence that

this practice prevents crime.

But there is evidence that it's

destroying careers of artists.

We're talking top 10 to not

being in the top 100 charts.

Like, it's so important

for an artist's career.

And I think they know that.

I've asked them

if they monitor

videos of any other genre.

And they were perplexed

by this as a question.

[siren wailing]

I've seen the police go

through a young person's phone

and search the amount of times

that they've searched

the word "drill"

to suggest their interest

in criminal subculture.

And for me, it really

is quite ridiculous.

I've also seen, like,

the police search terms like

"s*ab-proof vest"

to show the young person's

concern with v*olence.

But from a trauma-informed

perspective,

if a young person is searching

about s*ab-proof vests,

that indicates

that they're scared

that they might come

to some form of harm,

not necessarily that they're

involved in perpetrating it.

Lyrics are often mistranslated

by police officers who claim

to be experts on rap.

For example, something

like "make a killin',"

which we know means to

make a lot of money,

I've seen that translated to

suggest that the young person

had the intent of m*rder.

In a lot of these cases, what

the prosecution is inviting

the court or jury to do is to

infer that someone is a member

associated with a g*ng.

Once that term "g*ng"

is deployed by the state,

it has a really detrimental

impact on young people.

[sighs] The most common way

that you see drill

being used as evidence

is through what's known

as Joint Enterprise law,

which is similar

to U.S. RICO charges.

It's used to imply

guilt by association.

If there's three

people in a track,

and one person is suspected

of doing X, Y, and Z,

playing that video

to a jury might cause them

to attribute all

of the sentiments

to any of the artists

featured on it.

Where it's

particularly significant

is that you will be charged

as the primary.

If there's a m*rder, you'll

be charged for m*rder.

The police powers

in this country

are getting more extreme.

And some of this playbook

is being formulated

in and through

the targeting of rappers.

I'm not involved in any g*ng

activity or illegal behavior.

I also don't own--

I have no type of access

to no type of illegal firearms.

You get it?

And I ain't out here

trying to endanger

anyone's life either, man.

These rappers in the UK

know they being watched.

And if the police are using

rap artists as guinea pigs,

what does that mean

for the postal worker,

the nurse, the bartender

who find their lives under

the microscope of the state?

[indistinct chatter]

Does power ever know

when to stop?



[elevator bell dings]

[device chimes, vibrates]

[rapping indistinctly]

[door opens, bells jingle]

Hey, are you Lavida?

- Yes, hello. Hi.

- How you doing? Kemba.

both:

Nice to meet you.

I'm a mobster, I been out,

finally let the king out

Still got the heart

to bring my tool

And back the ting out

I don't take

well to a draw-out

Mind what you say

if it's my name...

So you call yourself

the King of Drill?

- The King of Female Drill.

- Oh, the King of Female Drill.

Okay, what makes you say that?

- Mm-hmm. Yes.

The bars, baby. Like...

[laughter]

A lot of the time, it comes

from what I'm going through.

I started to write

poetry from a young age.

And then that kind of

transferred into music.

Were you able to find a

sense of community or people--

No, I think the first time

I found a sense of community

was jail.

And that's where I really

found myself as a person.

I did about four years.

I went in 16, came out

just before 21.

- Yeah, you grew up a lot?

- Yeah, I grew up a lot.

I wouldn't be where I am now if

I didn't have that experience,

at all.

- Wow.

Were you writing?

- Yeah, writing.

That's where I decided I want

to be a rapper, in jail, yeah.

And the girls on the

wing pushed me as well.

They used to tell me,

Lav, come and rap for us.

Come and sing for us

on the wing and stuff.

Like, yeah, they pushed me

to chase this dream, really.

They always told me,

you're bigger than this.

Have you heard about

what's happening now

where people are using

lyrics as evidence

against rappers in court?

Yeah. [chuckles]

That's happened to me.

- Has it?

- Yes.

Oh, please tell

me about that.

[chuckles]

Well, I released some music

after I'd come out of prison.

They're taking all of

my music, like, as evidence

for my deportation case.

They took one of

my songs on my--

the chorus is, g*n on

my hip, g*n in the crib,

g*n in the ride--just lyrics.

[laughs]

And the judge read them

out word for word--

g*n on my hip, g*n on my--

- No.

[laughs] I was trying

so hard not to laugh.

No way.

But I had to stop

making drill music.

Like, they told you

you can't make--

Yeah, well, I got a warning.

If I carry on "inciting"

g*ng v*olence...

And if they had it

their way, yeah,

I wouldn't still be doing this.

I felt a bit hurt, too,

because it's like,

this is the only thing that

I can do to change my life.

I can't get a job.

My criminal record is

too crazy to get a job.

I'm not, like,

good at anything else.

Like, the only thing

I feel like I was ever good at

was music.

The only thing I feel like

I was born to do is music.

So how are you trying to

even stop me doing that?

I'm not troubling no one.

I'm not doing anything.

Like, if you take

that away from me,

I am going to end

up going back.

It was a lot of emotion...

[conversation fades out]

Now sit back, relax,

and enjoy the flight

to New York City.

Just like Lavida, I don't

know where I'd be without rap

or how I would have seen

a world outside the X.

So I think that's where

I need to go next,

back to my own backyard,

talk to somebody who was

in the same place I was--

searching for a way out.

[distant dog barking]

Yo, what's good, y'all?

- Hey, yo, what's up?

What's good, G?

How you doing, G?

- What's going on, boy?

- What's good, G?

What's good, man?

- Chilling, man.

You from the X, right?

Where you from?

- It's a fact--[bleep].

- Oh, you from [bleep]?

Now, I ain't going

to lie, I heard

you said you was the face

of the Bronx.

Fact.

How the f*ck you gonna

tell me they better than me?

When I already

know that they not?

Bro got locked

for a sh**t', he in a cell

He not scared 'cause

he know how to box

Free Dot...

You got shot when you was 15?

That's a fact.

n*gg*s know what I'm saying

is really facts,

so that's why n*gg*s

start f*ckin' with it.

The best way is to go gritty,

all your way through,

till you get to that bread.

- Oh, I feel it.

Shit, I want to

hear some shit, yo.

Let's go to the car.



Sha grew up 15 minutes

from me but 10 years apart.

There's not much

difference between him

and the famous rappers

you see on TV.

People are being

entertained just the same.

But Sha's still in the middle

of it, still in the trenches.

And his fans love him for it.



So, when you make music,

where does it come from?

From everything I've been

through, the pain, the...

me wanting to make it out.

When you was coming up,

was the goal to get signed?

You was like,

yo, I'm gonna get signed?

Hell, yeah,

it was to get signed.

But I ain't really

think it could happen.

It ain't seem possible?

No, people like us,

we don't got shit.

So you got to take advantage.

When you wake up

in the morning,

do you feel like Sha?

Or is there a different person

than the person making

the songs in the music video?

I feel like

a different person.

- Yeah?

- Yeah.

Like, I just feel like

my old self, basically.

What you mean, your old self?

Like, before all

this music shit.

It's not a lot of fun.

Do you feel a pressure?

Right now everybody want

to put everything on me.

They problems is my problems.

And I got my own problems.

You got, like, mad people's,

like, hopes

on your back type shit.

- Word. Mad people.

How do you deal with that?

I just get high.

[laughter]

On the real shit,

I just get high.

I feel it.

I just get high,

get high, get high

until I just forget about it.

Then I go rap.

And that's why I rap,

because rap is, like,

therapeutic for me.

Like, that's, like, my therapy.

I could rap to the mic.

And then after that,

I be like, this shit not

even that serious.

People hear the music,

might see an interview,

get an idea about you.

Are there things people,

like, misunderstand?

Hell, yeah, everything.

I'm just a kid that

just found a way to...

tell my story in a good way.

- Yeah.

- Because they don't want it

the other way

that I used to be.

I'm just trying to tell

my story in a good way.

And God put this

way in front of me.

And I took it.

'Cause living here,

you at risk.

You could be an innocent kid,

and something

will happen to you.

Whatever's in the past, shit

always come back to bite you.

So, with the success or not,

you just got to know, like,

what you signed up for.

You feel like

you could blow up

and stay where you grew up at?

Hell, no.

I got a daughter.

I got to think different now.

Is there anything

that maybe you didn't have

that you want for her?

A crib, two parents

in the house...

All of that.

Just able to eat whenever...

and don't got to worry what's

your next meal, what's, like...

- Yeah.

- Survival.

Like, she don't got to

worry about none of that.

She can be a regular kid.

She can be a regular

person in the world.

She can hear

what I went through

and just go a different route.

A bunch of people

in my hood that--

from basketball to rapping

to everything--

that had a chance

and f*cked it up.

And now they

back to the block.

That's my biggest

fear right there.

I got some unreleased

to show you, my boy.

Let me hear something, man.

I'm the last one left

I can't lose my mind over

this shit, baby, I'm solid

I made it out, and I ain't

even go to college

f*ck it, they gonna

think I'm dumb

I don't give a f*ck 'cause

I be walkin' with my g*n

Go get back,

get back for your son

He was saying Poppa Jiggy

Now that n*gga in my lungs

I be going through shit,

but I'm never gonna fold

Know my mother happy 'cause

she see me getting old

I told her to thank my g*n

When the ops see me,

this shit gonna blow so fast

It don't matter

if a little n*gga run

Tell them n*gg*s

I'm a sh**t

My b*tch bad, when I

f*ck her, I abuse her

p*ssy so good

when she brought bricks

I want to boom her

I just have to tell her,

bae, don't listen to them

This how this shit

get in the Bronx

n*gg*s be capping,

they gonna smoke him dead

But they gonna

cop it when they lacking

Rapping got to work, or we

going right back to trapping

I was dead broke, but

some way I made it happen

Some way I made it happen

When they used to see

a n*gga down

They started laughing

They ain't told me

how to get that bread

They told me, clap shit,

go and get that ratchet

Pop a brick and

go and blast shit

Go and catch a halo,

put a n*gga in a casket

Now I do this

for my daughter

I'ma make sure

that she has shit

I can't lose my mind over

this shit, baby, I'm solid

I made it out, and I ain't

I ain't even go to college

f*ck it,

they gonna say I'm dumb

I don't give a f*ck 'cause

I be walking with my g*n

Go get back,

get back for your son

He was saying Poppa Jiggy

Now that n*gga in my lungs

I be going through shit,

but I'm never gonna fold

Know my mother happy 'cause

she see me getting old

My G, good looks, man.

Thank you.

- Hey, bro, appreciate you.

- Good luck with everything.

- Out of here.



[car door closes]

[distant siren wailing]

They already make

so many assumptions.

[dramatic music]



We want to protect

the right of everybody

to share who they are

and where they come from.



The First Amendment

protects five freedoms.

It's about protecting

the freedom of belief first,

the ideas

that are in your head.

Next, it's about

freedom of speech.

So you're not only allowed

to hold these ideas,

but you're allowed

to share them

with those who are around you.

And then the freedom

of the press.

So now you've had the idea.

You've spoken the idea.

It also protects the right

to disseminate that idea,

to publish that idea,

online or other ways

that we convey messages

across time and space.

And then you have

the freedom of assembly.

So you've had an idea.

You've communicated that idea.

You've disseminated

that idea widely.

And now you're coming

together and mobilizing folks

to feel strength in numbers

and to activate

around this idea.

And, finally, the right

to bring those ideas

right to the seat of power

to try to change

the society around you.

So, in that way, we can read

the First Amendment

as protecting the journey

from an idea to a movement.

We can criminalize

rap all we want.

But that's not going to

resolve the root of the issue.

We need to listen and really

take action around addressing

the systemic issues that

are causing young people

to experience these realities.

We're at the beginning

of the process of drafting

some legislation

to lobby the music industry

and the politicians

and say that this isn't

something that should happen.

We have to protect speech,

protect artistry,

and we have to be able

to, in my opinion,

not only protect those things,

but we got to protect hip-hop.

And that's what this

bill is responding to...

Decades of over-prosecution

based on artistic expression.

I think it's

important for people

to urge their own

state legislatures

to do something similar.

California has passed a law.

And we're continuing

to see more

and more states consider this.

If we don't fight back,

we're going to be left

without our rights.

We got to fight back

for the transgressive art,

the art that's willing

to say the unsayable.

The stakes are

there for all of us.

And if we lose this case,

then, you know, who's next?



What was it that

Shakespeare said--

all the world's a stage?

[muffled, echoing]

This is it.

Are you absolutely sure that

you'd rather go to trial...

[normal voice]

Than take a plea deal?

I think so.

Okay.

Then good luck.



Members of the jury,

all the prosecution

has offered today is music,

just Mr. Jefferson's

creative expression.

That is not sufficient

to show that he committed

this crime

beyond a reasonable doubt.

We ask that you return

a verdict

of not guilty.

Prosecution, you may proceed

with your rebuttal.

Ahh.

Members of the jury...

as we know

from various witnesses'

compelling testimony,

a good man,

an upstanding citizen...

was shot and k*lled.

The clear responsibility

for that k*lling

lies at the feet of not

only the g*ng member

who pulled the trigger

but of the man who sits

in this courtroom right here,

the defendant,

who willfully promoted,

furthered assisted,

and benefited

from the criminal conduct

of that g*ng.



In this device, this 2-way...

the defendant wrote

his most intimate thoughts.

Now, ladies and gentlemen,

I don't have to tell you

about this man's thirst

for v*olence.

You just have to listen

to his own words.

"I got some N-words

in my crosshairs.

"Got to burn some bridges

as the torch bearer.

"Get the cowards off the block.

"I'm worried for my enemies.

"I've been hitting

up the opposition.

"Where is

the mother-effin' safe at?

As soon as God forgive me,

I'm going to sin again."

His own words say it all.

The defendant's

motive was clear--

to rob and k*ll.

And without him, the victim,

a husband and a father...

might still be alive today.

Instead, what do we have?

[sighs] A widow...

a shattered home...

and a city that feels

fundamentally unsafe

every time you step foot

in a convenience store.

That's not the way

things were meant to be.



Do you want to make

the world a safer place?



The only way to bring justice

to this family...

is to find that man guilty.

The prosecution rests.

Members of the jury,

you've heard all the testimony

concerning the case.

You, and you alone,

are the judges of the facts.

[gavel bangs]

We are adjourned.

Now the jury deliberates.

This is your last chance.

There's no shame

in taking the plea, Kemba.

[echoing] Don't help

your enemies destroy you.

I'm ready.

Roll the tape.

When I wrote this, there

wasn't no studio audience,

no one applauding it,

movie recording it.

Just a devil on one shoulder,

angel on one shoulder, arguing.

One saying, keep it calm.

One saying, no, go in.

Been building a bunch of

bridges under two conditions.

When you talk, I listen.

When I talk, you listen.

But some people

still won't get it.

Maybe they lacking senses,

lacking empathy,

lack of interest, lack of

experience with the Blacks.

Maybe the accents make

them apprehensive.

Might have to flip from Queens,

flip to the queen's English

for these academics.

Okay, then, listen.

They never cared

to make amends.

They'd rather make amendments.

Used to auction off the n*gg*s,

now they profit off of prisons.

That incentives shape

environments,

environments make conditions.

The conditions

shape the culture,

then they focus

on the symptoms.

Make a profit off,

make a mockery of,

then lock you up for lyrics.

You get it?

'Cause I ain't about

to say no specifics.

'Cause nowadays

you can say what happened.

But we don't know who did it.

But they going to

pop up at your door

like they Jehovah's Witness.

Judge spell out the sentence

like you in

grown-ups' business.

They want what's in you

without you.

Want our rhythm,

not our blues.

Took the spirit out the soul.

Now it feel like dj vu.

Took the pulse out the flows.

Now it's givin' Dr. Seuss.

If you see them n*gg*s

jumping out the gym,

it's not the shoes.

The news gets you caught

up in the angles--

the rich and famous,

confessions in a hidden

language, the image gangster.

I see the dark skin

contrasting off different pavements.

Lives tangle with the forces

like two distant strangers.

So, when the chalk

hit the asphalt

and there's rhymes

in his RAV4

so Fox say it's rap fault,

you got what you asked for.

Where they get the experts on

them lyrics--the task force?

How badly you think

they want to win it?

The task force.

As we speak, they piecin'

meaning on the newest song,

clapping on the 1 and 3,

nodding on the 2 and 4,

we could see the undercovers

peeking through the door.

Uniformed John Cena, like

I ain't never seen you before.



[echoing]

Be seated.

[normal voice]

Have you reached a verdict?

Yes, Your Honor.

We, the jury,

in the case

of the State of New York

versus

Matthew "Kemba" Jefferson...

[voice muffles]

Find the defendant...



As we speak, they tuning

laws like a blues guitar.

Just change the melody,

and they gonna think

it's a new song.

Just like our medicine, they

never address the root cause.

Just reap the rewards and snip

the strange fruit off.

I know they gonna do

their worst as we speak.

Thoughts blurred, like

I said the seven words, FCC.

But if any of my words spark

a nerve, irk a nerve,

work your nerve,

make you nervous,

then it's working as we speak.

The only man born

that can never die

I'm on the platform of

the 5, on the train tracks

Finna fall back,

I'ma electrify

I close black holes

for my exercise

Your both eyes went blind

when you read the signs

I think you better have

a shift in paradigm

I quit my desktop job,

then I severed ties

I wore the same

two-piece suit seven times

I'm all on it,

my name's all on it

I came to the Earth

with a saint to forewarn it

I came from the dirt,

but I sprang and dug on it

It wouldn't have worked

without rain to pour on it

The hero once sung

but a one child

With a son sister sundialed

resurrected blood

When the suns down

in the slums

'Cause he went one-on-one

for one round with a cop

And got gunned down

in his own town, God damn

Heart beats

Heart beats,

heart beats, heart beats



Long as my heart beats

Heart, heart, heart beats,

heart beats, heart beats



I'm fully aware

that I'm not perfect

But I try

I still try, I still try

You can see my feelings

on the surface I can't hide

But I still try,

I still try

I don't even really wanna

get to know ya

Statistics show

One of us might go soon

No, I don't even really

wanna get to know ya

'Cause I can't take

no more heartbreak

I can't stand to see

my brothers die

I can't stand to read

my sister's will

I can't stand to see

our mothers cry

I can't stand to see

my n*gg*s k*lled

I'm too young to see

the other side

I can't stand to read

my sister's will

I can't stand to lose

another life

I can't stand to see

the K*llers live