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Texas Monthly


THE 20
ESSENTIAL
TEXAS
RAP TRACKS


Autoplay

The East Coast may have invented rap, but today the Lone Star State rules the
hip-hop world. Here’s a song-by-song history of how that happened.

Illustrations by Jimmy Turrell

Rap wasn’t meant for Texas. But it was only a matter of time before Texans
started rapping, made the genre their own, and regifted it to the world. Today
hip-hop is one of our state’s greatest cultural exports. But how did Texas rap
come into its own? It’s quite the story. The twenty songs listed here are a good
place to start.

Like many great Texas tales, this one has humble beginnings. Disco Al’s 1980
single “The Bounce Rap”—as far as we can tell, our state’s first rap
record—borrowed its sound straight from New Jersey’s Sugarhill Gang. Eventually,
Texas started looking to itself for inspiration, thanks in large part to
entrepreneurs such as Houston’s J. Prince, the founder of Rap-A-Lot Records.
Through ingenuity and steady cultivation of homegrown talent, Rap-A-Lot and
other local labels gave Texas its own hip-hop scene.

Texas rap truly emerged in the nineties, especially 1996, which is widely
considered its golden year. Five of our songs are from that year, which produced
UGK’s classic manifesto Ridin’ Dirty, DJ Screw’s world-shifting 3 ’n the
Mornin’: Part Two, and the Geto Boys’ unflinching, revelatory The Resurrection.
All continue to inform rappers here and elsewhere.

Houston dominates this list, as it should; the city’s south side was and remains
a cultural powerhouse. Indeed, Houston rappers rule the country’s hip-hop scene,
with artists such as Lizzo, Megan Thee Stallion, and Travis Scott dominating the
Grammys and Billboard charts. That trio has so far amassed twenty Grammy
nominations and six wins, 7 number one singles, and 2 number one albums.

Houston rap has snaked its way into the verses and choruses of plenty of
non-Texas hip-hop giants, from Jay-Z (who, as you’ll see, has taken more than
one page from UGK) to Drake (who pops up on this list almost as often as the
Fifth Ward’s ubiquitous Geto Boys). The chart-topping Harlem rapper A$AP Rocky
owes his career launch to Houston’s particular sound, and Southern artists
ranging from Tennessee’s Young Dolph to Mississippi’s Big K.R.I.T. have openly
paid homage to Texas’s regional flows.

I grew up with these songs, which in some ways raised me—and other contributors
to this feature. For all of us, to know these songs—which are just as intrinsic
to the experience of being Texan as attending a Willie Nelson show or dancing to
Selena’s “Bidi Bidi Bom Bom”—is to love them, and to feel them, through and
through. And that’s what we’re inviting you to do.—Kiana Fitzgerald

Advisory: The audio clips below contain profanity.

20

1980


“THE BOUNCE RAP”


DISCO AL



In early 1980, the Sugarhill Gang’s “Rapper’s Delight” became the first rap song
to reach the Top 40 of the Billboard Hot 100 chart—a defining moment for the
then-nascent genre. Countless MCs, inspired by the success of the New Jersey
trio, began writing their own rap lyrics, rife with regional references. San
Antonio radio personality Alberto Calvo was one of the earliest out of the gate.
Accompanied by the local conjunto group the Barrio Sound Band, he released a
seven-inch single, “The Bounce Rap,” that’s thought to be the first rap track
ever put to tape in the Lone Star State. Over a funk-laced beat that sounds as
if it could have been played by James Brown’s band on an off day, Calvo raps in
self-described “San Antonio style,” nodding to familiar locales (“I was standing
on the corner of Houston and Main / When a woman drove along and asked my name”)
and a then-popular Spurs player (“Gimme boogie, gimme funk / Gimme George Gervin
and the slam dunk”).

It’s not a great track—Calvo’s debt to “Rapper’s Delight” is obvious and hardly
paid in full—but it was, in his neck of the woods, trailblazing. Others quickly
followed: Johnny “Guitar” Watson’s “Telephone Bill” (1980) and Leroy Franklin’s
“Star Bird II” (1981) were each, at various times, mistakenly regarded as the
first Texas rap songs. None of them were hits, nor did they create a
distinctively Texas style of rap. But they did open the door, and everyone else
on this list—including people who did create distinctively Texas styles—walked
through it. —Paula Mejía

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The Ghetto Boys (later spelled Geto Boys) pose for their record You Ain’t
Nothing, in New York City in 1987. Left to right: Jukebox, DJ Ready Red, and
Prince Johnny C.

Michael Ochs Archives/Getty

1987


“CAR FREAK”


GHETTO BOYS



The story of Houston’s first bona fide rap label, Rap-A-Lot Records, and the
legendary group it spawned starts with this twelve-inch single about “Girls
hounding homeboys all day nonstop / Because he got a live car, she’s on his
jock.” A dubious concept, sure, but “Car Freak” made sense as Rap-A-Lot’s debut:
James Smith (a.k.a. J. Prince) founded the label in the office of his used car
dealership. And as many of the songs that show up later in this list make clear,
cars quickly became a core motif of Houston hip-hop.

The track, set to gated, reverb-heavy drums (think eighties Genesis) and a
buzzing synth line, sounds as boxy as the cars on Smith’s lot (“If you’re
walking down the street there is no conversation / The girl wants a man with
some damn transportation”). It’s a product of its time, when rap was primarily
an East Coast phenomenon and making significant inroads to the mainstream;
Run-DMC’s 1986 Raising Hell was one of the very first platinum hip-hop albums,
and the Beastie Boys’ Licensed to Ill would become the first rap record to reach
number one on Billboard’s pop charts weeks after “Car Freak” dropped. Houston
wasn’t yet the Southern hip-hop capital we know today, but local kids loved the
track, which received substantial airtime on stations geared toward high
schoolers, and that was enough to give H-Town rap a jump start. (And launch
Rap-A-Lot, which went on to break artists such as Devin the Dude and Z-Ro.)

Though the record cover depicts a trio—Jukebox, K-9, and Raheem—only K-9 and
Raheem actually rap on the song (Jukebox didn’t show up for the session, so
Raheem, who was supposed to record for his debut solo album, stepped in).
Ultimately, the group would benefit from a series of lineup changes and a slight
name change, and by 1989 Smith had finally assembled the trio that the world
recognizes as the Geto Boys. Success wasn’t far behind. —Matt Sonzala

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1991


“MIND PLAYING TRICKS ON ME”


GETO BOYS



Mental health struggles weren’t a favored theme in early nineties hip-hop, a
genre in which anything less than a tough-guy image was frowned upon and even
ridiculed. Big rap songs then were either dance-club-ready jams, lyrical
journeys through the streets, or hard-edged imaginings (sometimes retellings) of
violent encounters. Which is why it’s remarkable that the Geto Boys—Bushwick
Bill, Scarface, and Willie D—made a number one hit that combined all three
elements and grappled with themes of trauma, stress, anxiety, depression,
paranoia, and suicide.

Scarface produced and wrote most of the track, which was directly inspired by
his experiences. “I think my manic-depressive state and suicidal tendencies
played a huge role on who I was back then,” Scarface said in a 2010 interview.
He originally wanted the song for his debut solo album, but Rap-A-Lot’s J.
Prince thought that it had the potential to be a breakout single for the Geto
Boys’ third album, We Can’t Be Stopped. (He was right.)

Scarface’s choice of sample was artfully ironic: a funky guitar riff from Isaac
Hayes’s instrumental classic “Hung Up on My Baby,” which appeared in the 1974
blaxploitation film Three Tough Guys. Although “Mind Playing Tricks on Me” is
really about one person’s fear and paranoia, the four verses rapped by three
different MCs add an appropriately unbalanced feel to the song. No one gets
killed, but the emotional stress drives the narrator to contemplate suicide (“I
often drift when I drive / Havin’ fatal thoughts of suicide / Bang and get it
over with”), to nearly pull his gun on a group of senior citizens in a car he
thinks is tailing him, and to bloody his hands punching the sidewalk in a
hallucinatory fight with a person who isn’t there.

The Geto Boys’ raw vulnerability pushed the boundaries of hip-hop, and the
track’s success helped turn We Can’t Be Stopped platinum. Houston was now on the
national hip-hop map. —M.S.

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DJ Screw looks through a crate of records in his home studio in 1995.

Ben DeSoto/SoSouth Music

1996


“JUNE 27”


DJ SCREW



DJ Screw was the linchpin of Houston’s bubbling hip-hop scene in the nineties.
Born Robert Earl Davis Jr. and raised in Houston’s south side, Screw popularized
the chopped and screwed technique: slowing down rap and R&B songs, cutting them
up, and mixing them together, which provided an irresistible backdrop for
emerging artists to freestyle over. Before his untimely death, in 2000, he
created hundreds of “Screw tapes,” often featuring raps by members of his
Screwed Up Click collective. Many of the Houston hip-hop luminaries in this list
started out in the S.U.C.

On the night of June 27, 1996, Screw held a recording session during a party at
his house celebrating the birthday of S.U.C. member Big DeMo. Screw chose an
obscure track by the Atlanta hip-hop duo Kris Kross, called “Da Streets Ain’t
Right.” It wasn’t the first time that Screw had used the track, but that night’s
iteration, and the accompanying freestyle raps by a host of performers that
included up-and-coming Houston MCs Big Moe, Big Pokey, and Yungstar, would
immortalize the 37-minute record in hip-hop lore. Big Moe was new to Screw’s
crew, and his silky-smooth voice serves as a sort of chorus, appearing after
each rapper’s turn at the mic. Big Pokey, whose lumbering cadence was a perfect
match for Screw’s slowed-down mix, was already a local favorite, but his
standout performance that night served as a preview for his successful solo
career (five of his albums would chart). And then there’s Yungstar, only a young
teenager at the time, with a unique enunciation that would reappear in future
classics such as Lil’ Troy’s 1999 “Wanna Be a Baller”

“June 27” is DJ Screw’s emblematic tape because he and the freestylers he
assembled capture the quintessential slowed-down sound of Houston hip-hop. Its
impact on the genre as a whole was so strong that, thirteen years later, a
struggling Canadian rapper named Drake felt the need to create his own version
of “June 27,” dubbed “November 18,” for his breakout mixtape So Far Gone. To
this day, “June 27” is a treasured part of Houston’s cultural heritage and a
centerpiece of Screw’s legacy. Last year, the City of Houston officially
designated January 24 as DJ Screw Day. But for Houstonians and hip-hop fans
across the world, June 27 will always be known as the official-unofficial DJ
Screw Day. —Donnie Houston

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1996


“STILL”


GETO BOYS



One of the most famous scenes in Mike Judge’s 1999 film Office Space features
three nerdy tech workers driving a much-hated printer, after one too many paper
jams, out to an abandoned field and taking turns smashing it to bits with a
baseball bat. The scene, like much of the movie, was shot in Austin. But the
music Judge set it to was Houston through and through: the Geto Boys track
“Still.”

By the time the Geto Boys recorded the song, they were already gangsta rap
royalty, a sphere then dominated by sparring East and West Coast artists. At the
peak of their fame, though, they abdicated the throne: Willie D left the group
in 1992, and Scarface and Bushwick Bill disbanded two years later. The
Resurrection, released in 1996, was their comeback, and the album’s pile-driving
opening song, “Still,” put to rest any doubt that they still had it. The trio
raps with aplomb over a barreling beat, cheekily taking aim at their critics,
expanding on themes of paranoia that their breakout song, “Mind Playing Tricks
on Me,” addressed, and putting twisted spins on proverbs. The track “makes you
want to destroy something,” Willie D said years later.

Which is presumably why Judge, a longtime rap fan, chose it for his movie, and
why it works so well. But the song almost didn’t make it to the final cut.
Hollywood execs thought the music was all wrong for a film about a bunch of
cubicle dwellers. Judge eventually prevailed, and two decades later, “Still” has
morphed into a classic office rage anthem. That wasn’t the Geto Boys’ intent
when they recorded it, but they’re happy to take the compliment: in 2015, they
went on what they called the “Office Space Tour”—and reenacted the notorious
printer scene onstage, baseball bat and all. —P.M.

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1996


“DIAMONDS & WOOD”


UGK



1992’s “Tell Me Something Good” launched the duo UGK’s career by showcasing Bun
B and Pimp C’s knack for insults, boasts, and threats. But four years later the
success they had worked so hard for had put them, probably to their surprise, in
a very different, more introspective mood.

Over a heavy, melancholic sample of a late-seventies Bootsy Collins track
(“Munchies for Your Love,” which features one of those high, keening Bernie
Worrell keyboard lines that fueled so much West Coast rap) and a hook straight
from DJ Screw’s “Elbows Swangin’,” the duo reflects on what stardom has changed
for them—and what it hasn’t. “Glitter and gleam ain’t all what it look like,”
Pimp C warns the jealous people who are “looking at me and my car so shife”
(slang for a threatening attitude) but don’t know about his baby’s mama, who
“act like he ain’t mine.”

Even when he tries to see some good in his Port Arthur neighborhood, he can’t
help but note that some “frown when you up, and smile when you down.” For Bun B,
success is no protection from random violence: “I lucked up today, and didn’t
fall prey to none of that pistol play / But who is to say, tomorrow they won’t
be blasting this-a-way.” He puffs “spliffs of hay” to cope with the sadness of
“wiping away my dead homie’s mama’s tears.”

“Diamonds & Wood” is of a piece with everything else on UGK’s somber third
album, Ridin’ Dirty. The record is widely regarded as the essential Texas rap
album, but it’s not what anyone would have expected at the start of UGK’s
career. As one rock critic famously said of Sly & the Family Stone’s 1971 downer
classic There’s a Riot Goin’ On, “the record was no fun.” And that’s exactly how
they wanted it. —K.F.

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1996


“TOUCHED”


UGK



It’s hard to overstate the importance of UGK’s Ridin’ Dirty, a golden album for
a golden year of Texas rap —which is why we’re choosing a second song from it.
What makes it so special? Where the Geto Boys put Houston on the national scene
by using New York–style beats, UGK perfected a distinctly Texas sound. Ridin’
Dirty is a blaxploitation film on wax that details the highs and lows of street
life, and almost every song boasts its own legacy.

Produced by N. O. Joe, “Touched,” the album’s seventh track, features a lyrical
hook lifted from the New York rap duo Mobb Deep (“Speak the wrong words, man,
and you will get touched”) sung in a sly, mischievous cadence by the Houston
rapper Mr. 3-2. Unlike most of the tracks in this list, it boasts a sultry
beat—a funky bass line, bouncing hi-hat, subtle wah-wah guitar, and a tinny
synth—that was created with live instruments. The music’s confident strut
provides the perfect score for Bun B and Pimp C’s lyrical bravado.

When a man whose girlfriend Pimp C has just stolen vows to get revenge, Pimp C
strikes preemptively, and ferociously: “Fool you talkin’ loud but you move too
slow / Tellin’ n—as all your plans, got you tied up in a van.” But it’s Bun B
who delivers the blistering lines that have taken on a form of immortality.
“Now, once upon a time not too long ago / A n—a like myself had to strong-arm a
ho / Now, this was not a ho in the sense of having a p—y / But a p—y having no
g-ddamn sense, tryna push me.”

These lyrics appear, word for word, in Jay-Z’s 2003 megahit “99 Problems.” And
those weren’t the only lyrics from Ridin’ Dirty Jay repurposed that year: he
spat a slightly altered version of Bun B’s closing lyrics on another track,
“That’s Why I Carry,” for the Memphis Bleek song “Murda Murda.” In case anyone
missed the homage, Jay-Z’s very next line is “A lil’ UGK for ya, Port Arthur,
P-A for ya.” Jay-Z has always been open about his love of UGK; three years
earlier, he enlisted the duo for his platinum track “Big Pimpin’,” which went
platinum.

UGK proved that Third Coast rap wasn’t just catching up to the East and West
Coasts. They set the stage for the Texan sound to become its own driving force.
—Sama’an Ashrawi

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NON-MUSICAL INTERLUDE


HOW ONE OF HOUSTON'S MOST CELEBRATED RAPPERS STARTED HIS CAREER IN A CAR

By Lil Keke

Hip-hop mainstay Lil Keke tells the story of how he earned his musical chops
driving around Houston.


TRAVIS SCOTT’S DOCUMENTARY SITUATES ASTROWORLD, AND HOUSTON, FRONT AND CENTER

By Kiana Fitzgerald

‘Look Mom I Can Fly’ traces the rapper’s ascent and his efforts to elevate Third
Coast hip-hop.

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1996


“PIMP THA PEN”


LIL’ KEKE



DJ Screw’s 1996 album 3 ’n the Mornin’: Part Two features guest turns from a
handful of rappers who were already established presences on the Houston scene.
But the album’s most defiant and boisterous track, “Pimp tha Pen,” belongs to
Lil’ Keke, who was then still struggling to make a name for himself. Keke, born
Marcus Lakee Edwards, had been working on his skills for years, entertaining
fellow students in his public school cafeteria with his raps, driving around the
south side with his friends, freestyling over cassettes.

“Pimp tha Pen” was his breakthrough: while Screw twists and slows a sample from
UGK’s 1992 classic “Pocket Full of Stones,” Keke opens with a bit of self-penned
slang that quickly entered the pantheon: “I’m draped up and dripped out / Know
what I’m talkin’ ’bout.” (In case you don’t know what he’s talkin’ ’bout:
“draped up” refers to wearing a flashy outfit; “dripped out” refers to a car’s
glossy paint job.)

The track is an expression of the quintessential Houston underdog attitude, born
of spending too long in the shadow of the East and West Coasts. Keke and Houston
have “been waitin’ / Never ever hatin’,” working on their skills until they “let
the world see / True hidden talent like Screw and Lil’ Keke.”

Keke’s prophecy was self-fulfilling: his wordplay and unique slow flows,
stacking slang upon slang, not only made the track a Houston anthem, but also
gained him an international audience. Drake dropped the line “draped up, dripped
out” on his 2009 Screw homage “November 18.” Today the world is definitely
seeing Lil’ Keke; he’s a community organizer and activist who received a
Lifetime Achievement Award from Barack Obama in 2015. —Brandon Caldwell

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1997


“CAN’T STOP”


LIL’ O FEATURING DESTINY’S CHILD



Did you know that Beyoncé and DJ Screw appeared in a music video together? And
that it was her first music video? And that it was one of the few on-screen
cameos he ever made? And that it was probably—at that point in her then-young
career—the professional highlight for the woman who now has more Grammys as a
performing artist than anyone in history?

“Can’t Stop,” by the Nigerian Houstonian rapper Lil’ O, first introduced Queen
Bey to the world. When O was getting his start in music, his aunt introduced him
to her friend Mathew Knowles, who agreed to manage him and quickly got him
signed to MCA Records. For the recording of “Can’t Stop,” O felt the hook needed
a female voice, and Knowles saw an opportunity, bringing in Destiny’s Child, a
girl group fronted by his daughter Beyoncé. Lil’ O sounds so confident on the
track—rapping about the years he spent as a street hustler and the pain of his
mother’s passing—that you’d never guess it was his first single. But it’s the
future Sasha Fierce who kicks things off, singing the opening lines in her
unmistakable mezzo-soprano.

While the regular-speed version received a fair amount of airplay, the song
didn’t become a Houston hit until DJ Screw slowed it down and included it on a
tape titled Chapter 52: Only Rollin’ Red, allowing listeners to better
appreciate O’s story.

The video, made by New York director Dwayne “DC” Coles, was shot at the
southwest Houston nightclub Jamaica Jamaica. O, realizing that no act since the
Geto Boys had been given the opportunity to rep the city in such a way, called
up some heavy hitters. DJ Screw, Fat Pat, and Willie D make appearances in the
video, as does Beyoncé, seen repeatedly behind the wheel of a car. During a
phone interview, O remembers fondly how he, Beyoncé, Kelly Rowland, LeToya
Luckett, and LaTavia Roberson (the latter two would soon be booted from
Destiny’s Child) all met their Houston rap heroes at the video shoot. The girls
were in their late teens, and O had yet to turn 21.

“These were my homegirls who were singing on the song,” says O, smiling through
the phone. “We was just hungry kids doing our thing, man. This was our big
break, and it just so happened to make history.” —S.A.

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1998


“25 LIGHTERS”


DJ DMD FEATURING LIL’ KEKE AND FAT PAT



In 1995 Memphis rap duo 8Ball & MJG dropped the song “All in My Mind,” an epic,
almost stream-of-consciousness series of street boasts. In the second line of
his verse, MJG, with little fanfare, slipped in the lyric “25 lighters on my
dresser, yessir.”

Some months later, Port Arthur producer DJ DMD drove the two hours west from his
hometown to record with several Screwed Up Click members at Skip Holman’s Sound
Design studio, in Katy. At some point, DMD and a crew that included Al-D,
C-Note, DJ Screw, Fat Pat, Lil’ Keke, and Mike D gathered for a two-hour
freestyle session, during which Keke nonchalantly dropped in the “25 lighters”
line as an homage to his contemporaries. When DMD later listened to the tape, he
heard an irresistible hook in Keke’s riff on that phrase.

A couple of years later—sometimes hip-hop history moves as slowly as one of
Screw’s beats—DMD brought an early version of a song he was working on called
“25 Lighters,” based around Pat and Keke’s freestyles and an Al B. Sure! sample,
to 97.9 the Box.

“I gave them the demo,” DMD recalled. “What happened after that was out of my
control. On our way from the radio station, back to our hotel, we heard the song
on the radio. Them dudes fell in love with that song so fast, they screwed all
the rules. They said, ‘Y’all need to hear this!’ They played it for Houston.” It
was an instant hit and thus the track most folks associate with the “25
lighters” line.

Decades later, tributes continue to appear. In 2012 the rappers Big K.R.I.T., 2
Chainz, and 8Ball & MJG dropped a track called “25 Lighters on the Dresser,” and
the line has been referenced in songs by Kendrick Lamar, Run the Jewels, and
H-Town’s own Travis Scott. DMD did a Christian-themed version called “25
Bibles.” Even ZZ Top got in on the act, releasing a song called “I Gotsta Get
Paid” in 2012, with Billy Gibbons pert near rapping, “I got 25 lighters for my
25 folks,” exposing the line to rock fans who probably wouldn’t know Lil’ Keke
from Lil’ Kim.

That’s a lot of attention paid to a cryptic line. DMD has mostly avoided
interpreting it, but former drug dealers explain it as a reference to cigarette
lighters that are drained of their fluid and then used to hide rocks of crack
cocaine. But the thing about “25 Lighters” is that, like so many immortal
lyrics—think the pompatus of love—every listener can draw a different meaning.
That’s one reason the world can’t seem to get enough of it. —Lance Scott Walker

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Fat Pat at Bam’s Sales & Service Inc. circa 1991.

Bam Lewis

1998


“TOPS DROP”


FAT PAT



When Patrick Hawkins was shot and killed in his hometown of Houston in 1998,
Texas lost a singular talent. The 27-year-old rapper, better known as Fat Pat,
hadn’t yet released a proper album, but he left behind enough tracks to produce
a handful of posthumous albums. The first, Ghetto Dreams, released a month after
Hawkins’s murder, included a bona fide classic: “Tops Drop,” which peaked at
number five on Billboard’s rap chart. The track is pure Texas. Houston producer
J Slash built Pat’s ode to south side H-Town car culture (“Trunks pop, tops
drop, and the front end hop”) around a sample of Dallas R&B duo Yarbrough &
Peoples’s 1980 funk hit “Don’t Stop the Music.’’ The minimalist synth and disco
bass line add gloss to Pat’s smooth baritone as he bounces from rhyme to rhyme,
giving the record the heft, gleam, and flow of one of his beloved candy-red
custom cars “floating smooth as a kite.” Nearly a quarter century after its
release, “Tops Drop” is still regarded as the greatest tribute to his hometown’s
SLAB (“slow, loud, and bangin’ ”) culture. –B.C.

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Lil’ Troy (standing) and friends in the South Park neighborhood of Houston in
2005.

Peter Beste/University of Houston Special Collections

1999


“WANNA BE A BALLER”


LIL’ TROY, YUNGSTAR, FAT PAT, BIG T



Houston-born Troy Lane Birklett, better known as Lil’ Troy, once told an
interviewer that he wanted to be “the Quincy Jones of rap” after the legendary
composer and producer put himself on the cover of his 1995 album Q’s Jook
Joint—even though he didn’t perform on a single track. Troy followed Jones’s
example for his 1999 major-label debut album Sittin’ Fat Down South, in which he
performs in only a few songs and not the most famous one, “Wanna Be a Baller.”
The decadent, syrupy track features an all-Houston cast of MCs: Big Hawk, Big T,
Fat Pat, Lil’ Will, and Yungstar.

This is another posthumous appearance for Fat Pat—his verse was chopped from a
different track (1997’s “So Real So Tight”) and slowed down to fit this song’s
cadence. Each MC drops memorable lines as he brags about his cars and clothes
and throws in fun Houston-rap Easter eggs (Yungstar gives props to UGK’s
“Diamonds & Wood” with the line “I’m lookin’ good, diamonds against my wood”).
But the iconic hook, delivered with gusto by Big T, and the song’s use of the
introductory chords to Prince’s “Little Red Corvette” are what make the track
immortal.

Today this celebratory capstone to a legendary decade of Houston rap has taken
on a somber hue. Except for Yungstar, every MC on the track is dead: Big Hawk,
like his younger brother Fat Pat, was fatally shot; Lil’ Will was killed in a
car accident; and Big T died of a heart attack. As for Lil’ Troy, he never
became the Quincy Jones of rap—he hasn’t released new music since 2006. But if
you squint a bit, you can see how he came upon such delusions of grandeur: for
one brief moment, he gathered the right voices at the right time and created a
classic. —K.F.

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1999


“CROOK FOR LIFE”


MR. POOKIE



By 1999 Dallas had been producing hip-hop talent for a decade, but those artists
either departed for the coasts or mostly took notes from Houston’s slowed-down
style. Listen to, for example, Pimpsta’s 1994 local hit “Rollin’ on Them
Thangs,” and you’d be forgiven for thinking you’re listening to an early Screw
tape.

“Crook for Life” may not have been more than a regional sensation, but it was
the Dallas anthem that gave the city its own identifiable sound—this was music
that could inspire you to dance or put you in a fighting mood. Or both. “Crook
for Life” is as catchy as it is menacing. It’s an angry, rhythmic, fast-talking,
finger-in-the-chest retort to Houston’s zoned-out lethargy. Pookie, along with
fellow Dallas rappers K-Roc and Mr. Lucci, who was only a high school freshman
at the time, relentlessly threaten violence (“Don’t act like nobody ain’t told
ya / These crooks came to uphold ya”) on top of a rumbling drum and a
minimalistic, high-octave piano line that belongs in a gory horror movie.

The track is the sonic equivalent of someone staring you down at a club, and it
would inform Dallas rap hits to come, such as Big Tuck’s “Southside da Realist.”
Mr. Pookie pushed Dallas hip-hop out of Houston’s shadow, and Texas hip-hop
would, at last, reflect some of the state’s regional diversity. —K.F.

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2003


“SUGA SUGA”


BABY BASH FT. FRANKIE J



Ronnie Ray Bryant, a.k.a. Baby Bash, wasn’t born in Texas, but in 1999, the
California native encountered a vibrant Mexican American presence in Houston’s
hip-hop community and soon made the city home. He fell in with a crew that
included musicians Grimm, Happy Perez, and Shadow and bunked with them in a
compound off the Hardy Toll Road, in North Houston, where they’d party, make
music, and scrape together enough money to cook a communal vat of pork chops. He
especially clicked with Perez, a guitar player turned beatmaker who, around
2003, gave Bash a CD he’d burned that contained twenty instrumentals. One of
them caught Bash’s ear: a melancholy piece built on top of a warbling guitar
riff inspired by one of Perez’s favorite guitarists, John Frusciante, of the Red
Hot Chili Peppers. Bash thought the beat might be too “soft” for him, but he
took the CD with him when he drove from Texas for a visit to California to work
with Frankie J, of the Kumbia Kings (a Corpus Christi collective started by
Selena’s brother, A. B. Quintanilla), with whom he had crossed paths a few times
before. The pair met up in San Diego to record a few songs. Bash put Perez’s
beat on the stereo, lit up a joint, and leaned back into his chair. “I’m lifted,
shifted, higher than the ceiling,” he said. He and Frankie instantly knew they
had something, and the phrase quickly became the refrain of “Suga Suga.” Bash at
first tried rapping in the assertive style of UGK’s Pimp C but then adopted a
monotone talking style for the track, with “fluffy, more airy and pretty”
vocals, as he puts it. Later, back in Texas, he handed a CD of the song to Ed
Ocañas, a radio program director in Corpus Christi. When Ocañas called him weeks
later to tell him that “Suga Suga” had become a hit in town, Bash explained that
the track was actually called “Lifted.” But the people had spoken, and Bash
changed the title.

The song soon spread to San Antonio, then on to Houston and beyond. In December
of 2003, it reached the number seven spot on the Billboard Hot 100, a
breakthrough for Houston hip-hop, which had done well on the rap charts but
hadn’t quite conquered the mainstream. Suddenly, the Third Coast was on the
radar of record labels, who came calling for Bash and Perez. “People started
looking to this place as ‘We make hits here,’ ” Perez says. Several Houston
rappers, including Chamillionaire, Paul Wall, and Slim Thug, nabbed record deals
soon after.

In the nearly twenty years since “Suga Suga” first trickled out of a local
Corpus Christi station and into the world, Bash has had other hits, and Perez
has served as a producer for the likes of Ariana Grande, Frank Ocean, and
Miguel. The song has become a familiar presence on TikTok, and other artists
have covered it; the late French rapper Népal’s 2019 cover has more than 20
million plays on Spotify alone. “When you think about that era, that was the
only song that sounded like that,” Perez says. “Back before ‘vibe’ was a big
word, ‘Suga Suga’ was a vibe,” adds Bash, maybe only slightly hyperbolically.
—P.M.

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Slim Thug, Mike Jones, and Paul Wall rehearsing for the 2005 MTV Video Music
Awards in Miami, Florida, on August 28, 2005.

Kmazur/Getty

2004


“STILL TIPPIN”


MIKE JONES, PAUL WALL, SLIM THUG



If you had to make one—just one—mix CD to define the rush of rap hits that came
out of Houston in the 2000s, this is the song that would kick it off. It has
every element you could want: a beat from Salih Williams, who crafted
quintessential tracks of the era for Paul Wall, Bun B, and Pimp C; scratches
from Swishahouse label head Michael “5000” Watts; and career-defining verses
that double as lessons in H-Town slang from three breakout stars: Mike Jones,
Paul Wall, and Slim Thug.

On paper, the beat seems as if it would never work: a simple drum line, bells
sampled from Whodini’s “I’m a Ho,” a hook taken from a Slim Thug freestyle, and
a violin loop from, I kid you not, the William Tell Overture. But the track is
so much greater than the sum of its parts. It’s a perfect song.

Slim Thug’s booming baritone saunters through his tinted windows; Jones’s
penchant for repetition connects him to the blues singers of yesteryear, who
would repeat specific lines to emphasize a feeling; and Wall delivers one of the
most prophetic rap lyrics of all time, boasting, “I got the internet goin’ nuts”
years before social media transformed the way we consume music. On the strength
of this song alone, not to mention the rest of their catalogs, all three rappers
have become living legends in Texas.

Seventeen years later, fans have only grown more fond of “Still Tippin’.” It
resurfaced recently on the Queen & Slim soundtrack and as a backing track for J.
Cole’s viral LA Leakers freestyle. Plus, at least once a year someone on Twitter
sparks a spicy debate over who had the best verse. The answer, of course,
depends on: what day it is, what kind of mood you’re in, and whether you’ve
heard the original version, which features a verse from another Houston titan,
Chamillionaire, in place of Wall.

That version, with a beat from producer Bigg Tyme that’s faster and funkier than
the famous one, was released on a Rap-A-Lot Records compilation earlier that
year. It was held back and usurped by the better-known version only because
Watts and Bigg Tyme had a falling-out. If it hadn’t been for the dispute between
those two men, Williams may never have gotten the chance to bless us with that
timeless beat. That’s enough to make you believe in a higher power, or at least
something like fate.—S.A.

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Z-Ro in his kitchen in Houston, circa 2005.

Peter Beste/University of Houston Special Collections

2005


“MO CITY DON”


Z-RO



It’s easy to tell why Z-Ro’s “Mo City Don” is regarded as the national anthem of
Houston. It’s a four-minute, 25-second freestyle packed with punchy lines and
references to Houston culture, stacked and harmonized over a hypnotizing sample
of Erik B. & Rakim’s “Paid in Full.” The track took Houston by storm and is
considered the only contemporary freestyle that compares with the ones on DJ
Screw’s “June 27.”

Although the song was released in 2005, it wasn’t until 2009 that its legend was
first minted—at the expense of Drake, who just may be the biggest fan of Houston
rap outside Houston. At Warehouse Live during his first-ever tour, the
soon-to-be-superstar dropped just a few lines from “Mo City Don” during an
interlude. The Texan crowd responded by belting out each and every syllable of
the freestyle with an intense fervor that silenced Drake, who seemed to
vacillate between frustration with the seemingly uncontrollable crowd and joy
that he was among a tribe who loved the tune perhaps more than he did. This
moment, captured on video, went viral on hip-hop blogs. Suddenly, the track was
no longer limited to playback in clubs and at house parties.

Even after Drake became one of the biggest rappers in the world, he didn’t
forget his humble—and humbling—beginnings. His 2013 song “Too Much” is partly
about how nervous he was before that Warehouse Live show. Then, in 2014, he
closed the circle during a triumphant return to the venue, bringing Z-Ro onstage
to perform “Mo City Don.”

And the funniest thing about the whole story? Z-Ro never even liked the song.
—Jessi Pereira

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2007


“MY DOUGIE”


LIL WIL



The Dallas rapper Lil Wil’s 2007 song had all the makings of a hit single—and it
was, at least regionally. Over punctuated orbs of bright sound, contrasted
against thundering bass and a stuttering drum machine, Lil Wil gleefully recites
the most oddball chorus hook to come out of Dallas rap, repeating “my dougie”
ten times before declaring, “I’m fresh, yep, flyer than a motherf—er.”

As raps go, it wasn’t particularly complex, but it was catchy, and like a lot of
Dallas rap from the aughts, it had a dance to go with it—the Dougie, a jig that
combines a head rub with a shoulder shimmy and alternating steps. It was an
infectious bit of choreography, and someone far from Dallas noticed. In 2010 the
Los Angeles group Cali Swag District shamelessly co-opted the dance for its
national hit “Teach Me How to Dougie.” While it gave Dallas a shout-out in
passing, Cali Swag District didn’t give credit to Lil Wil for putting the dance
on the map, nor did it invite him to appear on the song in its original or
remixed form—classless behavior that should offend every Texan.

Still, the song’s chart success belatedly brought the dance to national
attention: by 2012 Michelle Obama was doing the Dougie, as was gymnast Gabby
Douglas at the Summer Olympics. Eventually, former first daughter Jenna Bush
Hager jumped on the bandwagon, bringing the Texas connection full circle. Lil
Wil, alas, never quite got the credit he deserved. —K.F.

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2018


“R.I.P. SCREW”


TRAVIS SCOTT



Travis Scott’s triple-platinum 2018 album Astroworld is an homage to his
hometown of Houston and the Texas rap giants upon whose shoulders he stands.
Named after the amusement park that Scott frequented as a child, the record
helped birth his annual Astroworld music festival, held on the grounds of the
defunct park. (This year’s festival is slated for November 5 and 6.) Though
Scott’s two previous albums made him a star, Astroworld was the first mature
realization of his artistic vision: hip-hop with a spaced-out, psychedelic bent.

Astroworld’s massive success was driven primarily by the mosh pit–inducing
“Sicko Mode,” which became the first hip-hop song to spend thirty weeks in the
top ten of the Billboard Hot 100. But the fourth track, “R.I.P. Screw,” is peak
Houston, a futuristic culmination of the city’s distinct hip-hop sound. A
dedication to DJ Screw in both style and substance, the song is marked by
slowed-down, slurry distortions that give the impression that a
twenty-first-century Screw is manning the board. As soft electronic keys patter
like rainfall, Scott, his voice transformed as usual by Auto-Tune processing
that leaves him sounding like a stoned cyborg, settles for belting out one
sizable, mortality-obsessed verse. “I just took a four to the head,” he raps,
referring to four ounces of codeine cough syrup that, mixed with soda and hard
candy, was Screw’s drug of choice. Though the mixture plays a role in the
Houston rap scene analogous to that of LSD during the sixties, it has claimed
lives, including those of Screw, who overdosed in 2000, and the late Port
Arthur/Houston rapper Pimp C. During this track’s three-minutes-and-change,
Scott doesn’t try to resolve that dichotomy. His fuzzy, blissed-out affect (“Oh
my God, I just can feel the love”) may be the only thing that makes sense to
someone ambivalent about a substance that fueled his heroes, and also killed
them. —K.F.

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2019


“TRUTH HURTS”


LIZZO



It was a smash hit that almost wasn’t. In 2017, when Lizzo released “Truth
Hurts” as a single, the Houston-raised singer and rapper (and classically
trained flutist) had been working toward a solo career for five years, but she
had yet to break into the mainstream. “I remember thinking, ‘If I quit music
now, nobody would notice. This is my best song ever, and nobody cares,’ ” Lizzo
told People.

“Truth Hurts” is a scorching send-off to an ex, delivered with a message of
self-love. A simple, bouncing piano loop straight out of a carnival fun house
holds down the song while a hi-hat and crisp drums lend it some texture. Lizzo
can be a powerhouse belter, but this song isn’t meant to showcase her vocals.
Here, she’s cocky and self-assured, her voice sometimes whining or cracking with
emotion when she tells off her ex, rap-singing, “You coulda had a bad bitch,
non-committal / Help you with your career just a little / You’re ’posed to hold
me down, but you’re holding me back / And that’s the sound of me not calling you
back.” Lizzo’s music never lacks Texas-size personality, but her loud
braggadocio and smart put-downs issued at an indulgent, leisurely pace have the
hallmarks of the Houston hip-hop of her youth.

Still, the song went nowhere—until February 2019, when it became the basis of a
viral trend, with Twitter and TikTok users riffing on the song’s iconic opening
line, “I just took a DNA test, turns out I’m one hundred percent that bitch.”
(Lizzo would later acknowledge she lifted the line from an internet meme, which
was itself taken from a tweet by the British singer Mina Lioness.) By then,
Lizzo had dropped the eighties-pop-style hit single “Juice” ahead of her major
label debut Cuz I Love You. Then, the next month, Netflix released a trailer for
the movie Someone Great that featured “Truth Hurts”; in the film’s most
memorable scene, actor Gina Rodriguez drunkenly raps the song after her
character experiences a breakup. The song charted in May and would become the
longest-running Billboard Hot 100 number one by a solo female rapper.

By the end of 2019, Lizzo was everywhere, and it came as no surprise when the
song earned three Grammy nominations. “Truth Hurts” was more than just a dis
track to her ex. It became a middle-fingers-to-the-sky anthem and Lizzo’s
declaration to the world that after years of trying, she had finally arrived.
—Cat Cardenas

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2020


“SAVAGE” REMIX


MEGAN THEE STALLION AND BEYONCÉ



2020 was no one’s favorite year, but it had one thing going for it: San
Antonio–born, Houston-raised Megan Thee Stallion. “Savage,” which appeared in
her EP Suga in March of that year, boasted an insistent keyboard line that
played peekaboo with the beat and a memorable chorus that encapsulated her
brand: “Classy, bougie, ratchet / Sassy, moody, nasty.” The song inspired a
global TikTok dance craze and by April 1 reached the twentieth slot on the
Billboard Hot 100, making it Megan’s second biggest hit, after the previous
year’s “Hot Girl Summer,” which placed nine spots higher.

Well, for a moment it was her second biggest hit. As “Savage” percolated through
the airwaves, the first lady of Houston music, Beyoncé, contacted Megan,
offering to contribute her own verses to the song—a surprising move, given that
Bey rarely makes guest appearances. “You grow up and you friggin’ watch
Destiny’s Child, and you go to the rodeo to see them perform,” Megan later told
the Guardian. “You don’t grow up and think you’re gonna meet Be-yon-cé!” Their
collaboration produced “Savage (Remix),” which stays true to the original but is
enlivened by Beyoncé, who effortlessly switches from ethereal singing to
boastful rapping to a sly combination of both. Megan, who touched up her own
verses, seems to have been inspired by Queen B—who makes sure to remind
listeners that “Texas up in this thang.” The track hit number one on the charts,
and Megan and Beyoncé became the first women ever to win the Best Rap
Performance Grammy.

And that was just the start of Megan’s year. A few months after the remix topped
the charts, she hit number one again with “WAP,” her lascivious, controversial
collaboration with New York rapper Cardi B. (Okay, maybe 2020 was someone’s
favorite year.) By this August, after Megan became the first rapper to appear on
the cover of Sports Illustrated’s annual swimsuit issue, it was clear that the
future of the genre would center on assertive, body-positive women—and have a
distinctly Texan twang. —K.F.

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PHOTO ILLUSTRATION CREDITS

Beyoncé: Ezra Shaw/Getty; DJ Screw: Ben DeSoto/SoSouth Music; Megan Thee
Stallion: Rich Fury/Visible via Getty; Lil Wil: Ben Rose/Getty; Ghetto Boys:
Michael Ochs Archives/Getty; UGK: Peter Beste; Lil’ O and Lil’ Keke: Ray
Tamarra/Getty; Destiny’s Child: Jim Smeal/Ron Galella Collection via Getty; Lil’
Keke with car: Matthew Johnson; Frankie J: Peter Kramer/Getty; Baby Bash:
Patrick Fraser/Corbis via Getty; Travis Scott: Nicholas Hunt/MTV via Getty;
Megan Thee Stallion: Erik Voake/ROC Nation via Getty; Beyoncé: Theo Wargo/Getty

CONTINUE READING


THE SUCCESS OF BEATKING’S HIT ‘THEN LEAVE’ IS A MOMENT FOR TEXAS RAP

By Kiana Fitzgerald

A viral smash on TikTok, the song is part of a club music lineage that exists
for the sole purpose of getting people moving.


THE SLOW LIFE AND FAST DEATH OF DJ SCREW

By Michael Hall

He was one of the most influential cultural figures in Texas—a generous
godfather to a generation of rappers, an entrepreneur of Houston’s mean streets,
the master of a scene fueled by codeine cough syrup and hip-hop beats. When he
overdosed in November at the age of 29, it was easy to dismiss him as yet
another musician who succumbed to his own success. But his story is more
complicated than that.

CREDITS

WRITERS

Sama’an Ashrawi
Brandon Caldwell
Cat Cardenas
Kiana Fitzgerald
Donnie Houston
Paula Mejía
Jessi Pereira
Matt Sonzala
Lance Scott Walker

EDITORS

Josh Alvarez
Jeff Salamon

COPY EDITORS

Marilyn Bailey
Amy Weaver Dorning
Sarah Rutledge

FACT CHECKERS

Sierra Juarez
Paul Knight

MULTIMEDIA PRODUCER

Brian Standefer

ART DIRECTION

Victoria Millner
Emily Kimbro

PHOTO EDITOR

Claire Hogan

DESIGN & DEVELOPMENT

Tim Biery

ILLUSTRATIONS

Jimmy Turrell

ANIMATION

Lyon Graulty

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