Acacia O'Connor Editor In Chief

On my way to the Hip-Hop 101 panel discussion “Violence, misogyny and homophobia in hip-hop,” the 10th track of Jay-Z’s new album American Gangster, “Ignorant Sh*t,” was playing on my iPod. When I entered Rockefeller Hall 300 for the lecture, I was handed a sheet of paper with lyrics printed on it—the lyrics to that very song.

“I’m gonna really confuse you on this one,” Jay-Z says in the intro to the track. And he is true to his word. The tracks and lyrics that caught my attention on American Gangster—the ones that make it good—are the ones that critique the role of hip-hop in American culture today.

What first had me hooked on the tracks of American Gangster were the smooth beats and soul sounds with samples from the likes of Marvin Gaye (“Soon I’ll be loving you again” on Jay-Z’s “American Dreamin’”), Barry White (“Love Serenade” on “No Hook”) and Little Beaver (“Get into the Party Life” on “Party Life”). But without Jay-Z’s verse, which is equal parts self-satisfied commercial product and social critique, I wouldn’t listen to the album on repeat for the fifth consecutive day. Or would I?

During the panel discussion, someone brought up one of the qualms of being a hip-hop consumer in a time of catchy club beats and verses that are at best insipid, and at worst homophobic, sexist and racist. (Think about recent hits “A-bay-bay” by Hurricane Chris and “Crank That” by Soulja Boy Tell ’Em). As both hip-hop lovers and intelligent individuals, we end up taking and enjoying what is given to us by mainstream artists, and either ignoring the content of the lyrics or listening in spite of their tasteless content.

On “Ignorant Sh*t,” Jay-Z spits subtly satirical verse mimicking today’s gangster rap by slipping in commentary throughout. The chorus goes: “This is the ignorant shit you like: nigga fuck shit ass bitch trick precise.” Swearing and “gangsterment” are what listeners—and it is important to note that middle-class white teens comprise the majority of hip-hop listeners—want, right?

The message on the next track, “Say Hello,” is less ambiguous. “We ain’t doing crime for the sake of doing crimes / We movin’ dimes because we ain’t doin fine / One out of three of us is likely doing time / You know what that type of shit can do to/ a nigga mind?” It may not seem groundbreaking, but rarely do today’s mainstream rappers confront the broader picture.

Critics blame rappers for negatively influencing kids negatively, but Jay-Z is asking what influences rappers? For Jay-Z, it is films such as Casino and Scarface, which he cites throughout the album, and American political situations such as the Iran-Contra Affair. In other words, if people want to point fingers, Jay-Z is not the only bad guy. “I miss the part when it stopped being about Imus, what do I have to do with this shit,” he raps on “Ignorant Sh*t.”

For me, American Gangster reiterates Ice-T’s now-diffuse mantra: “Don’t hate the player, hate the game.” Don’t look at the lyrics and blame the rapper; ask yourself who is putting the music out, and who is behind the industry. Jay-Z can pose these questions now because he is the name in the game—not many music artists have such freedom or opportunity.

Every time I listen to the tracks on American Gangster, the rhymes stick out and raise more questions about hip-hop. Maybe that is the point, maybe not. After all, as Jay-Z laughs at the end of “Ignorant Sh*t,” “It’s only entertainment!”