The Ten Commandments of Rap

Unlike every other genre of music, rap is always viewed as something you play. You never hear about the honky-tonk or heavy metal "games" -- those genres have "industries" and "businesses," but hip-hop is damn near universally viewed as a diversion or pastime of some sort.

But if rap is, indeed, a game, then what are the rules? It seems nobody has ever bothered to write them all down. Sure, everybody seems to know them. Slide in just about any mainstream rap CD, DVD or flip on one of BET's video countdown shows or leaf through a stack of copies of rap mags like Ozone, The Source, Murder Dog and Vibe, and you'll see all of these rules at play, so clearly it's all governed by an unwritten code, but a code is one step below a system of law. So here we're trying to serve as nothing less than the Hammurabi of the Rap Game, the very first publication to inscribe the official rules.

To do so, we consulted The Legendary K.O.'s Damien Randle and Micah Nickerson, two locals who know these rules quite well, since they have made a conscious decision to break them all. And I happened to find a rap on the Net called the "(How To) The Ten Commandments of Rap" written by a blogger named Panama Jackson that helped us with the framework.

The First Commandment: Thou Shalt Embellish Your Background and Rep Yo Hood.

Jackson: Have a story -- you got to be a street vet / and get some credibility shit make it all up / make sure no one can check your references then shut the fuck up / the more work the better even if you ain't stack no cheddar / just say you can't talk about it then the game you are ahead of.

Randle: You have to have some story that is blatantly not true. Back in the day, it used to be that you had to be from Brooklyn. Even to this day, you get people doing that. I got a little cousin in Atlanta who wants to be a rapper, and you go on his MySpace and it says he's from Brooklyn.

Nickerson: LIE. LIE. LIE, LIE, LIE! Lie about everything. If you are 40 years old, say you are 30. If you are broke, say you are rich. If you suck, say you are different. Lie, lie, lie! And you have to represent a territory of your hometown. Even if you live in a totally different section or even a different city. Just be prepared to get tested by the haters that actually live there.

The Second Commandment: Thou Shalt Up the Ante

Jackson: Get shot in the leg, back, arm, head, and the toe / the more you know this shit worked for lots of other rappers / nine shots been done, go for ten -- its what's happenin' cap'n.

Nickerson: You have to get shot. 50 Cent got shot nine times. You'll either have to step it up to ten or come up with a more unique, nearly fatal injury. Something like the Crocodile Hunter. Kanye was cool because we got to see photo evidence of his face swelling up after the accident.

The Third Commandment: Thou Shalt Stay Fly

Jackson: Get a lot of throwback jerseys from the store or shit just borrow'em / up in Harlem you can get 'em on the corner for cheap / every rapper in the game got jerseys of niggas you need.

Randle: You basically have to get caught up in whatever is the dominant fashion piece of the moment. Right now, I think it's the grill, but I may be wrong. Whatever the item is, you have to rock yours in a way that makes others envy you.

Nickerson: Words from a well-known producer: "You Must Play The Part." If you are Mr. Super MC then you better look like one. Air Force 1's is a must right now. Get yourself a 7-XL Tee to match. Make sure your pants are hanging low. The lower the better. Get a chain that hangs really low. The lower the better. Grill teeth are optional. Don't worry about the older people hating on you. You do look like a clown, but you have to PLAY THE PART.

The Fourth Commandment: Thou Shalt Beef

Jackson: Simply stated but underrated nigga you need some street beef / Call out some famous rapper and try to end his career / I suggest staying away from Em, Jay, 50 Cent, or their peers / One bad move can totally fuck up your rise to the top / Ask Joe Budden, Canibus, Pras, Ja Rule, and other niggas that flopped.

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John Nova Lomax
Contact: John Nova Lomax