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Life & Arts

Gangsta is more than a thousand pictures

Beat Box

Zach Lee

Hip-hop was born in the streets of America's cities and in the back alleys of New York, Los Angeles, Chicago and Houston, it survived the struggle. It made it through gang violence, the crack epidemic and the other aspects of the hard knock life that kept most of its fans fighting to make ends meet. So it's understandable that street credibility is an important aspect of the genre, but even that has become a joke.

Take The Game for example. He's straight outta Compton, and if the hype is right, he's set to resurrect Compton -- not that anybody forgot about Dre. Speaking of the good doctor, he and 50 Cent are the executive producers of The Game's first big release, The Documentary, and they're touting him as the biggest gangsta rapper out of the West Coast since Snoop. If the story on his Web site is true, he's seen a few hard knocks in his life, including multiple gunshot wounds and a short stint in a coma.

It's too bad he doesn't let his experience speak for itself. Not only does he pretend to hold the future of an entire coast on his weak lyrical shoulders, he also gives fans one of the silliest examples of a rapper playing dress up for the camera in the liner notes of the album. Of course, we should have seen it coming -- the G-Unit camp is great at looking like thugs. Lloyd Banks and Young Buck just love to put on their hardest faces and pose like big bad warriors. 

What kind of thug needs to put on makeup and hire a portrait photographer to get people to think he's hard? The Game does. Even Dre drew the line at one mean mug shot for the liner notes of The Chronic. As an example of the new school of gangstas more than ready to pose for the camera, The Game has all his bases covered. 

He's got the repentant shot showing his head bowed in prayer, a couple photos with him and a mean-looking dog on a leash, a snapshot of him in a bulletproof vest and the most ridiculous picture of him in a kitchen, peeking through the curtains holding a pistol, with two more guns and a whole bunch of weed on the table. Yeah, thanks, Game. If I didn't believe you before, I sure as hell believe you now. What, did the guy at Olan Mills give you those cute little props?

If he's street, he's acting like he's gotta try real hard to prove it. He should focus more on his music than his outfits. Game over, chump. 

Then there are the Geto Boys. In the hip-hop game since before The Game could even lift up that bulletproof vest, their liner notes in The Foundation are nothing more than the required credit given for production of each song, samples and guest appearances. They don't even thank anyone. Sure, they all refuse to crack a smile on the cover, but the entire booklet is only one or two photos of each member -- not in intimidating poses, but rather just standing and looking into the camera. 

Maybe their time in the business has given them enough confidence to let their words be their only claims to the all-important street cred. They brag about how gangsta they are in just about every song, but that's just the thing: gangsta rap is music, not photo albums. Music videos are enough of an opportunity to prove visually how gangsta one is. Doing it in the liner notes is just excessive.
 

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