I am from Aurora, Colorado, the Denver metro area. the West, or perhaps the Southwest. Admittedly, we lack a definitive regional identity, but I can say with certainty it’s not the South, and yet this is a story about how The Hip Hop South changed my life. It’s a story of literal and figurative truths I have studied and returned to repeatedly, ruminations that have somehow edified me. It’s a story about music, culture, identity, and place. How one’s location matters immensely and at the same time not at all; how connection and meaning are both rooted and transcendent. The story is told by me, a curious and occasionally troubled suburban kid searching for some kind of credibility in this world. It’s also told by me, a 37-year-old educator, writer, and researcher, who through critical reflection continues to utilize all parts of myself in pursuit of authenticity and understanding. This is not a traditional, neatly packaged story but rather Legos strewn about on the floor: while lacking a clear resolution it is designed to be useful, taking shape over time by building on previous ideas and synthesizing them with new ones. A story of overt, occasionally reprehensible realities and beautiful meditations, both of which provoke the question, “what does this mean for how I live my life?” The lyrics above act as an anchor for me because of the way 8Ball easily summarizes a Southern ideology. As I attempt to expound upon his words, I use them as a lens that allows me to catch captivating glimpses of the Hip Hop South.

From left to right: Spencer, Gentry, and Sweet, Grandview High School, Aurora Colorado, 2006

My love affair with hip hop began in the late 90’s and blossomed in the early 2000’s, just before streaming changed everything. My boy Sweet and I would sit at desktop computers for hours scouring the internet for obscurities to impress each other with; independent research followed by a hunt that we prayed didn’t end in the disappointment of purchasing a 15$ frisbee. Sweet let me borrow his copy of King of Da Ghetto by Z-Ro in the 10th grade and I couldn’t understand it yet, he was early to most things at that age. He would pick me up in a beige Acura, rattling with bass, we wore tshirts that hung to our knees and fitted hats with the sticker intentionally left on the brim. Sweet would have a stack of cash thick as a cheeseburger that he obtained by selling weed which was still a controlled substance at the time. We would talk shit and smoke on the ten minute drive to Angelo's CD’s and Vinyl where we would sit within the dank store walls - infused with nag champa and sandalwood, covered with glow in the dark posters and lined with glass pipes - digging, searching. Searching for the new release we had been anticipating but more often, digging through stacks of used CDs trying to find something the other person was unaware of. These stacks are where I found things that I had learned were Southern classics like Soul Food, Riding Dirty, and Last of a Dying Breed. Things that fell strange on my ears when I first listened at 16 or 17 years old, like I was listening to something from a foreign land.

This was an era when I preferred my hip hop with sped up samples, DJ’s scratching all over the chorus, heady metaphors and wordplay, so that I could decode the message and feel smart, closer to my favorite rappers. If I could comprehend what a rapper said the first time I listened, why would I need to listen again? I was eager, but misguided, a theme of my youth. The South was encouraging me to settle into heavy basslines and synths, Southern slang, bravado, storytelling, the confidence to not mince words. The South was saying to me: this sound right here, is intentionally not that sound over there; a value of plurality and difference within culture that I still hold close.

Spencer at Angelo’s CD’s and Vinyl, 16725 E Iliff Ave Aurora CO, July 8, 2024.

I believed the South was a hot and scary place full of polite, hospitable people. Each time I visit, this is more or less confirmed. Schooling and socialization brought me to the tacit, if erroneous, understanding of Southern folks as conservative and slow. Historical and cultural critique indicate that coming to this kind of understanding about people of another region can be intentional (ii). It benefits the ego to “other” our Southern brothers and sisters, creating an American identity that feels comfortable, on the good side of history. Some hip hop heads build identities based on the “real culture,” dismissing Southern artists, ignoring the irony that the South has shaped the culture for three decades. None of this seems lost on 8Ball as he respectfully dismisses the pandering “He tryin to tell me ‘bout some shit Farrakhan said.” Not unaware, just unconcerned. I would like to take this opportunity to draw close to the Hip Hop South, paying my respect to a region that created the art that continues to shape my taste and style. To do this, I offer my interpretation of what 8Ball meant when he used the word “philosophy,” a Southern philosophy, rooted in authenticity and the practice of reflective inquiry; a way of being that extends throughout the South and beyond.

“From the front porch to the stars, ain’t far, just stretch your arms” Curren$y

What I’m talking about is a Southern aesthetic, a style, and subject matter that cuts across regions and generations, dating back to the very beginning. To say it plainly, all of this shit was HARD. Since 1988 Scarface has been writing ruthlessly vulnerable, emotionally intelligent raps, without whining or gaslighting, a complexity modern rappers struggle with. 8Ball & MJG resisted outside influences and instead trusted self. UGK pimped women, sold drugs, and wondered how to process their survivors' guilt. Three 6 Mafia has been getting high with the devil since the early 90’s and invented a style every modern rapper has either studied or copied. The South has something to say and teach, but also souls to save and imaginations to tantalize, the South has weed to smoke, drink to sip, grills to flash, the flyest strippers, the biggest guns, cars I have seen in my dreams and flavors that require a second plate. The Hip Hop South smells like Swisher Sweet smoke billowing out the window of a wide body Cadillac, one with candy paint swerving real slow, it feels like the porch of a trap house at the dangerous intersection of confidence and paranoia. The culture of the Hip Hop South is unapologetically human and turns out it doesn’t take place in a distant foreign land but much closer, inside all of us even.

The way that a cadence and a rhythm combine with weed smoke while riding around, in any type of car really, can transform a Subaru into a spaceship taking you to a place inside yourself you seldom visit; A place where you can process your guilt about previously committed sins and transgressions, or you can boast about them to solidify a street credential. Repetitive choruses can become a mantra causing one to meditate for days, holding different meanings at different times. The “yeah, ho” you heard and repeated rhythmically also has a time release, somehow refreshing itself in your memory when you need it most. Southern rap will entice you to dream about going to the club with nothing but a chain sparkling on your chest and spending an entire direct deposit on one bottle of liquor. Southern rap is an empathetic friend, helping you grieve the loss of a loved one, giving you permission to ask God why, wondering if avenging the loss is really the best path forward?

The Hip Hop South is rich with thinkers and creators who dare to know, dare to trust their experience, dare to make sense of this world on their own terms. Rappers who are honest enough to admit they might not always be right, but insightful enough to understand that you don’t know shit either. These rappers are relying on empirical observation, trusting their five God given senses to help them survive, create meaning, and find joy. Any outside imposition about what is Hip Hop, what is Black, what is moral, they weren’t trying to hear it. If you haven’t seen what I have seen, 8Ball asks, how could you possibly tell me? “I’m from Tennessee and love drinking Hennessey.” Period. The Hip Hop South values things like being free of external constraints, acting in the interest of their own goals and values, and the right to self-determination. These key enlightenment values are not only distinctly Southern, they are distinctly human (iii). I have absorbed this game via slow drip over the years, things I consider foundational tenets of the Hip Hop South. This is the meaning-making portion of my disjointed story, a retrospective analysis about what feels most salient as I approach 40 years old. I consider this a living document to expand upon as the Hip Hop South continues to leave its fingerprints on my life.

“Heavenly Father, why are you so far away?” Isaiah Rashad

The Hip Hop South provides a model on how to engage with the idea of faith. How to reconcile what we hear at Sunday worship, or what our grandmother tells us, while also dealing with ourselves in the context of what can seem like a godless world. The Bible preaches that before we can remove the speck from our brother’s eye, we must first remove the plank from our own (iv). The Hip Hop South understands the shape and contour of their own plank, they pray for the wisdom to know how to remove it when the time comes - even though they may not be in any hurry to do so. I relate to the experience of being the sheep that wandered from the flock, the experience of forgetting God, and then begging for His mercy. The humility and humanity implicit in this message is an exercise in theology (v). The Hip Hop South taught me to submit to a creator, whatever that might mean for me. That I am a flawed creature who continues to stumble, that I can enjoy the fall, but I also must face the consequences. Not self-righteous but self-aware.

Spencer at Zion Baptist Church, 933 E 24th Ave, Denver CO, July 14, 2024

Joy is primary in the Southern genre of faith, joy and faith seem to be inseparable. In my experience, the singing and preaching at a Southern Baptist church occur at a volume and with a fervor that would make my Presbyterian family blush. The origin of this, at least in part, seems to be a gratitude for life and love which are never guaranteed, but always cherished and celebrated. For Southern rappers the celebration might include showing off a collection of material items: a celebration of me, ergo, a celebration of the creator. Even on the other end of the spirituality spectrum when Three 6 Mafia uses Satan as an aesthetic, it still feels southern and interesting. They are acknowledging their reverence for an ethereal spirit realm beyond our understanding, and a willingness to play with ideas of God, the devil, death and an afterlife. Death is always present, but it does not discourage, it does not diminish joy.

“I’ll never leave my block, my n****s need me” Scarface

A setting is an environment bound by time and space, including networks of interpersonal relationships with demands and norms that influence behavior, psychological, and social processes (vi). Now think about the American South using that definition. Racism, and segregation - even de facto - poverty, wealth and isolation - real and perceived - the church, drugs, food, music, guns, slang and language, are all examples of settings. Maybe you embody these things as core values central to your identity, maybe it's the opposite, but place and setting matter just as much as the reaction to that place. Now think about Hip Hop using the same definition. It’s within this setting that 8Ball wishes KRS and Boogie Down Productions peace, he’s clear that he respects the culture, while simultaneously identifying and differentiating his independent Southern philosophy. The Hip Hop South understands that they are both existing within and creating context: looking around, describing, having fun, and making money to build something better. Preserving and celebrating pieces of culture while also reacting and responding in order to design a new setting, one more aligned. It’s as though they say, “it’s not perfect but it’s ours now. Watch us own it,” an ideal anyone can practice. An alchemic reaction between person and setting transforming both, but also combining and melding component parts together. The music is a gift, an opportunity to listen to my beloved Southern heroes make meaning and create styles within settings, something I take as an invitation to do the same.

“As the calendar keeps flippin’, n****s dippin’” Big Boi

What we say is important, but equally important is when and how, the pace, the tone, the style, the timing. The Hip Hop South is direct, emphatic and what the words don’t say, the music - the use of cadence, melody, patterns, inflections and repetition - says with as much subtlety and nuance as life itself. Subtle in the production style that is at times anything but, created for life's big moments, demonstrating a deep understanding of classic Southern hip hop and rock, blues, gospel and country. Nuanced in delivery, certain bars are slow, low and said once while others are repeated loud, and almost always within patterns and structures. Creativity within patterns, originality inside of a structure is a metaphor for life. This way of playing with time is undisguised in the music, subverting expectations of rhyme style and song structure, like the chopped and screwed version of your favorite album. I suspect it’s more important than just the sound though, the music helps us unlock something deeper.

The passing of time and aging are inescapable backdrops of the human condition. It marches on for all of us, haunted by past mistakes and trapped by future responsibilities. While it may not be named directly, the music of the Hip Hop South rejects a linear conception of time, if I had to assign a shape it would be more circular. The South responds to the inescapable, circular nature of day-to-day life with agency and reclamation. The music shows our favorite rappers riding slow in their favorite cars, partying with friends, making money, going to strip clubs, having sex, worshiping God, and taking care of families. These moments may have occurred a million times before and they may occur a million times more, so move slow and enjoy traversing this flat circle (vii). Sipping lean and repeating a mantra might help to unlock this conception of time, but I think we can also do it sober if we breathe deep and concentrate. A relinquishing of control and settling into the lush present, passing the time in a way that we enjoy with no stress. We live in cycles and repetition and the music of the Hip Hop South often reflects that, while also showing how to do it with style, with a wink that seems to say, “I bet you don’t do it like this” (viii).

“What that b***h said, pimpin’ ain’t dead” Pimp C

Life experience helped me understand all the ways in which humans come to know: an understanding of pain, pride, family, disappointment, spirituality, of having no money, and then having some again. Experience taught me solidarity in the human condition, a solidarity that inspires coping mechanisms and processing techniques, characteristics of my favorite art from the Hip Hop South. I learned to prioritize how I want to exist instead of impressing others with what I have to say, a strange orientation especially for scholars and academics. The South taught me to value experiencing the world through noticing, describing, and feeling instead of always needing to explain. For these reasons I am a living embodiment of the ideas of the Hip Hop South, the yield of the previously mentioned alchemic reaction, a melding of knowledge, style, and meaning. Since childhood I grappled with big ideas like faith and time, seeking guidance from rappers, the coolest people I could think of. I took 8Ball’s advice and let his holy words teach me, but I didn’t stop there. I allowed rappers from all over the South to share their subjective experiences with me. I tried to imagine why they would say the things they said, and why would they say it like that? I found connection in the need for spirituality, originality, the expression of confidence, the desire to be a leader, to provide. I enjoy feeling invincible, and inevitably I also feel uncertain and vulnerable. The Hip Hop South is a vehicle to dwell in these feelings and for that I will always be grateful. If absorbed properly and translated carefully this music can be transformative, changing the way you think but also the way you experience. So, let’s all take Three 6’s advice and tear the proverbial club up,(ix) just remember that I said to translate carefully.

By: The Knight of Infinite Resignation

AKA Dr Spencer Childress

References and Notes

(i) 8Ball and MJG, “For Real,” Released November 1995, track 4 on On Top of the World, Suave House

(ii) Said, Edward W. Orientalism. London: Penguin Books, 2019. Much like Said’s ideas on how the West perceives the East and Middle East, the USA tends to perpetuate ideas about the American South as inferior and needing saving, even if in terms of intelligence and worldview. This occurs, in part, when politics and academics combine to reinforce denigrating views.

(iii) Kant, Immanuel, and Allen W. Wood. Practical Philosophy. Edited by Mary J. Gregor. of The Cambridge Edition of the Works of Immanuel Kant. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996.

(iv) Matthew 7: 4-5 New International Version

(v) Louf, André, and Lawrence Cunningham. The way of humility. Kalamazoo, Mich: Cistercian Publications,

2007. “No fault or sin is ignored or excused but, rather, they are submerged and engulfed in mercy. Where sin abounds, grace yet more abounds.” p. 21.

(vi) Hughes, Diane L.; Watford, Jon Alexander; Del Toro, Juan. A Transactional/Ecological Perspective on

Ethnic–Racial Identity, Socialization, and Discrimination. Equity and Justice in Developmental Science: Implications for Young People, Families, and Communities, 2016. ed.

(vii) Nietzsche, Friedrich Wilhelm. The Gay Science: with a Prelude in Rhymes and an Appendix of Songs.

New York,Vintage Books, 1974. “The eternal hourglass of existence is turned over again and again, and you with it, speck of dust!’ p. 341

(viii) D4L, “Betcha Can’t Do it Like Me,” Released November 2005, track 8 on Down for Life, Dee Money Entertainment

(ix) Three 6 Mafia, “Tear Da Club Up,” Released November 1995, track 8 on Live By Yo Rep, Prophet Entertainment

Spencer Childress

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