What are they pointing to?

A natural interconnectedness runs through all life forms — humans, plants, animals, elements, everything. This idea appears across countless religious and spiritual traditions, each affirming, in its own language, that nothing exists in isolation.

To experience this interconnectedness, we have to do what Bob Marley suggests: listen carefully. Slow down. Detach from the noise and distraction of modern life. Breathe. And, as Sizzla says, get in tune with nature.

In America, this isn’t easy. The culture glorifies busyness and conquest, leaving little room to pause — we often feel there’s always something else to do, and even feel guilty for resting.

When’s the last time you sat with the hum of nature? No honking cars. No music. No notifications. Just the breath of God and his elements. In that stillness, you might be surprised by how much you’ve been missing.

The creation and consumption of music is a spiritual process — it’s only a matter of whether the individual is conscious of that process or not. When we listen to music, we are programming our minds and spirits to align with the emotional tone and message of the song. This can have a positive or negative effect on us.

Hip-hop has always carried a negative reputation as a result of the popularity of gangsta rap, trap, and now drill music, but what is almost never emphasized are the positive elements of hip-hop, most of which are found within the subgenre known in the hip-hop community as “conscious rap.”

I would argue that conscious rap is closer to the heartbeat of hip-hop than gangsta rap and trap music. However, the mainstream appeal of the latter has traditionally made it more attractive to artists and labels looking to maximize profit. This is simply an economic fact of supply and demand, and it devalues the impact of conscious rap.

It isn’t common for music with an overwhelmingly positive tone and message to be commercially successful. Of course, there are exceptions: “Keep Ya Head Up” (2Pac), “Alright” (Kendrick Lamar), and “Jesus Walks” (Kanye West) — but today’s most popular rap songs rarely carry these uplifting themes. It isn’t easy to make empowering, uplifting rap songs that are also commercially successful. The songs above were executed by some of the greatest rap artists of all time (I appreciate you!).

But when you step back from commercial rap and dive into the richness within hip-hop, I’ve found that I’m not always met with the degeneracy mass-marketed across the globe. Instead, I’m left with introspection, vulnerability, philosophy, political expression, spiritual principles, business acumen, education, and much more. Sometimes these themes weave themselves into commercial-sounding tracks; other times they’re simply not meant for commercial use.

As Jay-Z said:

“This is not for commercial usage, please don’t categorize this as music…” — “No Hook”

And as Nipsey Hussle said:

“This ain’t for entertainment, it’s for n***** on the slave ships. These songs just the spirituals I swam against them waves with.” — “Dedication”

Let’s dive deeper.

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Inspiration

Lauryn Hill says:

Yo hip-hop, started out in the heart

Uh-huh, yo

Now everybody tryin’ to chart

Say what?...

Music is supposed to inspire (Music is supposed to inspire)

How come we ain’t gettin’ no higher?

In my opinion, a core element of hip-hop is truth-telling. Through that process, we experience an artist’s authenticity and vulnerability, which is inspiring. It provides an invisible, immeasurable X-factor to the music. This could be a truth about a feeling you’re experiencing, a truth you’ve observed within your environment, or a spiritual or philosophical truth you’re convicted of. Regardless, there has to be some level of sincerity behind the message for it to be considered hip-hop.

The more truth you remove from your music, the more it becomes commercial rap. It may resemble hip-hop, but it isn’t hip-hop — it’s just rap. And rap is very entertaining, but rap is like that toxic partner you can’t stay away from. They may be thrilling and pleasurable in the moment, but the long-term value of a consistent relationship isn’t there. As we elevate our consciousness, we likely gravitate toward music that aligns with our vibration (our mindset).

I believe that’s why Lauryn Hill felt like we weren’t getting any higher — because artists are trading authenticity for commercial success. But when we remain authentic and choose truth over entertainment, that’s when our inspirational capabilities are strongest.

As Tupac once said:

“I guarantee you that I will spark the brain that will change the world. And that’s our job: to spark somebody else watching us.”

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Unification

Nas says:

“The earth wasn’t made for one man to rule alone. To all colors and creeds is to whom it belongs.”

Doesn’t this sound like something they should teach in elementary school? That is, if the public school system actually had enlightenment as its ideal outcome. Instead, Nas reminds us himself. This isn’t about ego — it’s about unification. It’s about seeing everyone as equal, even as a Black man who is not commonly seen as equal by other races. Choosing the higher road, the truth of equality over divisiveness, is Nas’s way of imparting wisdom on us.

Kendrick said:

“I don’t make black music

I don’t make white music

I make every day life music”

While Kendrick is unapologetically pro-Black in all his music, he acknowledges that he makes music that resonates with the human experience, not just the Black experience. This was from one of his earlier mixtapes (Overly Dedicated), and since then he’s released an abundance of music that speaks specifically to the Black experience. Still, many of the overall themes he touches on aren’t unique to one race: adversity, love, pride, depression, fear, religion, and spirituality.

The intro track of his Section.80 album is even titled “F*** Your Ethnicity,” where he says:

Now I don’t give a f*** if you

Black, white, Asian, Hispanic, god**** it

That don’t mean s*** to me

F*** your ethnicity, n****

Music can unify people from all walks of life. When we hear a good song, we can’t help but bob our heads or dance to the beat. Not everyone likes the same music, but many genres — hip-hop among them — have fans across different cultures.

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Education

Biggie made a song called “Ten Crack Commandments.” It was one of my favorite hip-hop songs as a child. While I wasn’t interested in learning how to sell crack, what interested me was Biggie’s educational flow on the track.

Rule Number One: never let no one know

How much dough you hold ‘cause you know

The cheddar breed jealousy, ‘specially

If that man f***** up, get yo’ ass stuck up

Number Two: never let ‘em know your next move

Don’t you know bad boys move in silence and violence?

Take it from your highness (Uh-huh)

I done squeezed mad clips at these cats for they bricks and chips

Number three…

As the song continues, Biggie gives us multiple rules and guidelines an upcoming drug dealer should follow to be successful. Now wait a minute — why am I celebrating drug distribution? I’m not. Be patient and keep reading.

Fast-forward to 2018, and Detroit artist Payroll Giovanni replicates this flow and concept on a song called “10 Stack Commandments.”

“Off top, first: you gotta get money (Get money)

Without that, how the f*** you gon’ stack, dummy? (How?)

Find a good hustle then you run wit it (Run wit it)

Let ‘em know it’s on the flo’ and they can come get it (Come get it)

Second: you invest in your hustle (Yup)

The bigger it get, the more that money gon’ double (Double up)

For a minute, though, a n**** gotta struggle (F*** it)

But stay focused, in a minute you gon’ bubble (You gon’ bubble)

Third: you gotta pay yourself…

Fourth: you gotta have willpower…

Number five: stay at home”

You can see how, throughout the track, Payroll shares rules and principles for building wealth from scratch.

Use your skill set to establish an income. Invest in your craft. Save money. Have the willpower to accomplish your goals and refrain from spending frivolously. Stay home to avoid extra expenses.

As the track continues, he touches on more concepts, like having more than one income stream and even communicating your financial goals with your partner. All of this is delivered in about two and a half minutes, over rhythmic instrumentation.

So what does this mean? Hip-hop can be used as a form of education. Instead of teaching drug distribution, we can teach wealth creation, and many other topics. This doesn’t take away from the entertainment we derive from hip-hop — it simply adds another use case for the music.

According to ProLiteracy: 59 million adults have literacy skills at or below Level 1, the lowest level. They can understand only very short, simple sentences, such as determining from a job listing whether the work is during the day or night, or locating a phone number on a sign.

According to the National Assessment Governing Board: in 2024, average reading scores on the Nation’s Report Card declined by two points for both 4th and 8th grade students compared to 2022. This follows a three-point decline in both grades between 2019 and 2022.

Not everyone can read at an effective level, and while I still encourage literacy, there is an opportunity to leverage auditory mediums to reach our people with the right messages.

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Political Expression

2Pac poetically said:

Is life worth livin’? Should I blast myself?

I’m tired of bein’ poor and, even worse, I’m black

My stomach hurts so I’m lookin’ for a purse to snatch

Cops give a damn about a negro

Pull the trigger, kill a nigga, he’s a hero

“Give the crack to the kids, who the hell cares?

One less hungry mouth on the welfare”

First ship ‘em dope and let ‘em deal to brothers

Give ‘em guns, step back, watch ‘em kill each other

“It’s time to fight back,” that’s what Huey said

Two shots in the dark, now Huey’s dead.

He poetically addresses many of the grievances Black people have with America, like police brutality, economic immobility, and the war on drugs.

J. Cole said:

Yeah, I pay taxes, so much taxes, shit don’t make sense

Where do my dollars go? You see lately, I ain’t been convinced

I guess they say my dollars supposed to build roads and schools

But my niggas barely graduate, they ain’t got the tools

Maybe ‘cause the tax dollars that I make sure I send

Get spent hirin’ some teachers that don’t look like them

And the curriculum be tricking them, them dollars I spend

Got us learning about the heroes with the whitest of skin

…If I’m givin’ y’all this hard-earned bread, I wanna know

Better yet, let me decide, b****, it’s 2018

Let me pick the things I’m funding from an app on my screen

Better that than letting wack congressman I’ve never seen

Dictate where my money go, straight into the palms of some

Money-hungry company that make guns that circulate the country

And then wind up in my hood, making bloody clothes

J. Cole goes further than merely stating a problem — he proposes potential solutions for increasing civic engagement through the use of technology. At the same time, he voices the skepticism many of us have about how government funds are used. While it can seem like we have no control over what the government does, we can advocate for the change we want to see, and we can use hip-hop as a medium for that communication.

More concisely, YG said:

“F*** Donald Trump”

And N.W.A said:

“F*** the Police”

Hip-hop has always served as a historical archive of Black political sentiment over time. Unfortunately, as Tupac said, “I see no changes.” Since that’s the case, there’s an opportunity to better align our political agendas with hip-hop to raise awareness of the critical issues our communities face and, more importantly, to educate people on how they can help.

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Healing

According to “Music and the Brain: The Neuroscience of Music and Musical Appreciation”:

“A number of studies have shown that rhythmic entrainment of motor function can actively facilitate the recovery of movement in patients with stroke, Parkinson’s disease, cerebral palsy, and traumatic brain injury…

Evidence suggests that music can decrease seizure frequency, stop refractory status epilepticus, and decrease electroencephalographic spike frequency in children with epilepsy in awake and sleep states. We know that many people with epilepsy have electroencephalographic abnormalities and, in some people, these can be ‘normalised’ by music.”

To be clear, this research doesn’t reference hip-hop music specifically, but I don’t think we’ve fully grasped the impact music has on the brain yet. While more research needs to be done in this field, to me, there has always been an intuitive tie between music and brain activity (if anyone else is exploring the effect of music on the human brain, let’s connect!)

With all of this in mind, music is simply more than entertainment. And I believe it’s our job to push the music community to leverage music as a tool for improving our collective condition as people.

Matthew Rickman

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“They say the Lord’s timing is Divine”

Cole kicks off the track by tapping into something our people know by heart:

“They say the Lord’s timing is divine / And I walk with Him, so that explains mine”

If you’ve grown up in a black-american household, you’ve probably heard the saying: “God may not come when you want him, but he’s always on time.” Cole exemplifies submission to a higher power, and as a result his life is aligned. Becoming one of the most successful rappers of his generation and surviving impoverished circumstances, Cole recognizes that his success isn’t just his own doing—it’s tied to God’s purpose for his life. This is a reminder for us to seek God and have faith in his direction.

He then pivots to introspection as he realizes that there are positives to the upbringing he survived.

“Cole, deep down, you may find all that pain creates a strange bond / Slums connected like the drums in a bass line”

This echoes his famous mantra from “Love Yourz”—there is beauty in the struggle. There’s a distinct, unspoken connectedness that bonds people who survive the same trenches. It’s a shared trauma that binds communities together like a perfect percussion and bass line. We could do without the pain and trauma, but a sense of community can be the silver-lining.

“Meditating for a better state my deranged mind”.

“Petrified of death and poverty, I chase mine

Like breathalyzer tests, I’m tryna walk a straight line

Meditating for a better state in my deranged mind”

Terrified of what seem to be the projected circumstances of anyone in his neighborhood, Cole has chased his opportunity to escape relentlessly. He is careful to avoid anything that can derail him from his purpose in life, and he is focused on his spiritual growth. This has led him to take up a meditation practice, which is a transcendent practice that has many benefits including: reducing stress, controlling anxiety, enhancing self-awareness and much more.

This isn’t Cole’s first time referencing meditation either. Remember “Friends” off KOD? He begged his homies to swap substance abuse for meditation:

“I know depression and drug addiction don’t blend

Reality distorts and then you get lost in the wind

And I done seen the combo take niggas off the deep end

One thing about your demons they bound to catch up one day

I’d rather see you stand up and face them than run away

I understand this message is not the coolest to say

But if you down to try it I know of a better way: Meditate”

Yet, escaping the mental programming of the streets is easier said than done. Cole hits us with a jarring realization as he completes his thought:

“Meditating for a better state in my deranged mind

Til I saw the Buddha pose and realized he throwin’ gang signs

…I guess the lesson is you can’t escape crime”

Think about that. The Buddha is a symbol of peace and enlightenment. But could it be that Cole is demonstrating a mind that is so conditioned by the stress and negativity of its environment that it looks at peaceful symbol and sees a gang sign? This could represent how deeply trauma taints our perception. It may cause us to look at something good and see bad, unconsciously rejecting what is positive for us.

We realize this is a stretch and Cole could just be making a clever line, however we can’t help but look beyond the surface of what’s really said. Throughout this song it seems like the tone is hopeless and apathetic, but after listening to the “The Fall Off” album in totality, that isn’t Cole’s overall message. So in this song we can better understand what contributes to these feelings of despair, and the answer usually comes back to economic challenges.

“Tryna Make a Legal Dollar Seems Harder than Guarding Wemby”

In the second verse, Cole gets brutally specific about the economic traps that channel our youth into the justice system.

“Since I’s a pipsqueak, leaned on survival instincts

On backstreets, where they’re tearing up hearts like them guys in *NSYNC

Codeine in they soda, dirty popping, plus how the ends meet

We’re serving rock on deserted blocks, tryna cause a frenzy

To profit quickly, I’m passin’ by, my pockets empty

Tryna to make a legal dollar seem harder than guarding Wemby

When you’re hardly six feet tall, if somehow I could ball

I better work hard on my handles ‘cause niggas gon’ try to rip me”

Trying to make a legitimate living when navigating poverty feels as impossible as a 5’11” dude trying to guard Victor Wembanyama in the paint. When a regular 9-to-5 can’t even cover rent or put food on the table, the block—and the quick cash of drug distribution—starts looking like the only logical option to make ends meet.

And if we look at the actual data, Cole’s lyrics aren’t an exaggeration; they are a direct reflection of the reality some of us face.

The Numbers Don’t Lie

According to labor statistics, the median annual wage earned by Black men ages 20–29 in 2021 was a staggering $25,000. That is the lowest median wage across every single demographic of men in the United States.

When legitimate paths to sustainable income and wealth are scarce, survival instincts kick in. But the traps are waiting. A comprehensive report by The Sentencing Project submitted to the United Nations highlights the devastating racial disparities in our justice system:

• The Incarceration Split: In 2016, of the 277,000 people imprisoned nationwide for drug offenses, over half (56%) were African American or Latino.

• The Enforcement Double Standard: More than 1 in 4 people arrested for drug law violations in 2015 were Black, despite the fact that drug use rates do not differ substantially by race.

• The Marijuana Paradox: The ACLU found that Black people were 3.7 times more likely to be arrested for marijuana possession than white people, even though both groups use it at virtually identical rates.

If you’re doing what you have to do to keep the lights on, you aren’t any less human than a pharmaceutical rep selling drugs legally within publicly traded corporations. And, it does take a serious amount of heart and courage to take risks just to provide.

However, we have to think critically about our collective condition. Going to prison to line the pockets of a private system utilizing us as slave labor means we lose. We need our people out here building and fighting within society to improve our collective condition. Nobody is coming to save us, and as black people we must take our well-being into our own control.

And this starts with education, not necessarily just a formal education (though that is great as well), but the process of seeking and obtaining knowledge that helps us improve our circumstances. Because once we obtain knowledge we are able to see new opportunities we previously could not understand.

So, let’s focus our energy on the improvement of ourselves, blocking out the noise and distractions within the media and everyday life. Let’s use our skills, knowledge and resources to become the best versions of ourselves and claim what we deserve.

Or, in other words, “ F*** the world, let’s run a train”.

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“F*** do you know ‘bout my passion? (Na, na, na, na, na)

F*** do you know ‘bout my pain?

F*** do you know ‘bout my struggle? (Na, na, na, na, na)

F*** do you know ‘bout Jermaine?

Ten toes is down on the pavement (Na, na, na, na, na)

Umbrellas don’t stop no rain

N****s, they die every day, so (Na, na, na, na, na)

F*** the world, let’s run a train”

This student-organized event featured a stellar lineup of performers: Reflections, Luppi Collective, Daeton, Aneesa Strings, Braxton Cook, Lily H Clark, Bombatta, Zion Marley, YG Marley, and Skip Marley. While every act brought something special, two performers immediately caught our attention: Aneesa Strings and Bombatta.

Aneesa Strings possesses a powerful voice dedicated to preserving the core of soulful R&B, and her multi-instrumental talents are staggering. We watched her seamlessly switch between plucking the bass and strumming the guitar live, all while singing passionately from her own catalog.

Bombatta, on the other hand, introduced a new-age reggae sound that brilliantly infused classic reggae with punk rock—an incredible combination. Hearing the genre expanded in such a bold way was intriguing, and it opened our eyes to how reggae can continue to evolve. Yet, as much as these emerging stars captivated us, it was the Marley family who truly stole the show.

Witnessing Zion, Skip, and YG perform is the closest many of us will ever get to experiencing Bob Marley live, and they did not disappoint. Their voices, mannerisms, and underlying ideologies so closely emulate Bob’s that it felt as though his spirit was communicating directly through them. It really made us reflect on the power of family, and how the generations after us can follow the blueprints we set, carrying our legacies forward long after we leave this Earth.

More importantly, their performances served as a powerful reminder of the true essence of reggae music. The Marleys constantly emphasize the message behind the music rather than just the vibe, anchoring their set in themes of love, unity, and spiritual growth. When these messages combine with authentic reggae instrumentation, they produce a healing, therapeutic vibration. Reggae music is like water that hydrates the soul. Experiencing this music live was transformational, and it is clear that God is using reggae to enlighten us all.

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A few lines that showcase his astute mindset can be found on “Dedication”:

“Dedication, hard work plus patience The sum of all my sacrifice, I’m done waitin’ I’m done waitin’, told you that I wasn’t playin’ Now you hear what I been sayin’ Dedication It’s dedication”

There is no doubt that Nipsey’s dedication paid off. As soon as we entered the restaurant, we were warmly greeted at the door and embraced by a comforting, communal atmosphere. People ate, laughed, and nodded their heads to old-school music playing over the speakers as orders were called out back-to-back: “72! Order 72 is ready! 73…!”

Diving deeper into Nipsey’s lyrics on verse 3 of Dedication we can better understand his approach to music:

“This ain’t entertainment, it’s for N****s on the slave ship. These songs just the spirituals I swam against them waves with. Ended up on shore to they amazement”

In these lines, Nipsey reminds us that his music is more than music. His lyrics are positive affirmations, words of encouragement, and a blueprint for success. His music serves as a guide as we navigate life’s trials and tribulations. Much like how our ancestors used Negro spirituals to lift their spirits during enslavement, Nipsey’s music can be used in the exact same way—and it was made with that intention.

The same intentionality Nipsey put into his art is being applied to his business endeavors today, even as he looks down upon us. The Marathon team is doing a phenomenal job cultivating a high-quality product and maintaining an excellent customer experience. Witnessing the operations of Marathon Burger reminded us of how great our community can be when we are aligned and working toward a shared goal. We can provide enjoyable experiences for our community and, more importantly, we can supply jobs for our people.

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We try to remain non-biased in our music discourse, but this post will be more impactful if we preface it with the fact that we are die-hard Kendrick fans and thoroughly enjoyed the legendary rap beef in 2024.

But…“Do you fools listen to music or do you just skim through it” (Jay-Z)

After reading initial reactions to ICEMAN we were expecting a terrible album, and especially with 3 albums total, it seemed like this was a desperate attempt to prove Drake’s worthiness as an artist.

But upon actually listening to the music it wasn’t that bad. In fact, some of Drake’s most impressive rap performances occurred on “Make Them Pay”, “Make Them Cry”, “Firm Friends” and “Make Them Remember”. And we couldn’t help but bob our heads to tracks like “Whisper my Name” “Burning bridges” and “Shabang”. With that being said, there are multiple disappointing tracks that the Drake detester may latch onto in order to prove inadequacy like “Ran to Atlanta” and the second half of “2 hard for the radio” where he intentionally tries to make a west coast slap.

Overall though, we are satisfied with the music we got from Drake. Iceman isn’t a GREAT album, but to call it absolute trash is to not appreciate music. Iceman is a smooth 6.

Now when we got to Habibti, this is where we were even more impressed. It is inconceivable how someone could hear tracks like “Classic”, “I’m spent” and “Slap the City” and say this is bad music. We were admittedly nervous seeing Sexxy Red on yet another Drake track, but “Hurrr nor thurrr” rides (even though Sexxy Redd wasn’t needed). This is a solid 7.3 R&B album, and it’s even more of a testament to Drake’s artistic greatness as he displays his versatility.

Maid of honor…yeah, he could have kept that. From a business perspective, Drake’s play here was to satisfy his contractual obligations to UMG and get out of his record deal. So, that’s why we got so many records, but we won’t be replaying maid of honor (does anyone like that joint?).

Yes, he’s still corny. He’s still a culture vulture.But he knows how to make good music, and as fans of the craft we should appreciate that.

“Two-Six” by J Cole: Medicine in the Candy

“Two-Six” kicks the door open with a sound that feels both raw and intentional—hard drums, heavy bass, and that unmistakable lyrical confidence you expect from J. Cole. But beneath the surface, it’s more than just a high-energy intro. There are nuggets sewn into the song that address larger themes relevant to our community.

The hook—“two-six n***** wild”—isn’t just about bravado. It’s about pride, survival, and the reputation of a place that shaped him. Cole uses this track to set the tone for what feels like two worlds within The Fall Off: one rooted in youthful ego (Disc 29), and another grounded in growth and reflection (Disc 39). That contrast mirrors real life—who we were versus who we’re becoming.

In the first verse Cole takes shots at a hometown nemesis who is referenced on later songs Safety and Poor Thang for dissing Cole, likely for notoriety.

Cole says:

“you was good in school, why you hidin’ your intelligence?”

He’s embarrassing this person by highlighting his inauthenticity. More importantly though, he’s speaking to something deeper in our community—something many of us may have felt at some point. The pressure to shrink your brilliance to fit in. The idea that being smart, focused, or academically driven somehow makes you “less real.”

That tension often starts early. In certain environments, excellence can feel isolating. Being called “too smart” or told you “talk white” isn’t just teasing—it’s a signal that you’re stepping outside what’s been normalized. And for some, that pressure is enough to dim their light.

But Cole challenges that mindset. He’s not just calling out one person—he’s holding up a mirror. Why do we sometimes abandon our gifts just to be accepted? Why trade authenticity for approval?

We must understand that we don’t have to perform a version of ourselves to be respected. In fact, the real respect comes when you stand firm in who you are. Intelligence, creativity, discipline—these are not things to hide. They’re tools. They’re power.

And when he says:

“Playin’ hard for the white boys that can’t tell the diff”

He’s also critiquing how culture can be packaged and consumed. It’s a reminder to stay rooted in truth, not just what sells. Because when you lose yourself chasing validation, especially from people who don’t fully understand your reality, you risk becoming disconnected from your purpose.

One of the most powerful lines on this track comes towards the end:

“Be careful of the devil and the melodies you hum

Smilin goin viral while infectin all of the young”

This is bigger than music—it’s about influence. What we create, what we listen to, what we repeat daily—it all shapes us. Energy is contagious, and our subconscious mind learns through repetition. Whether you’re an artist, entrepreneur, student, or leader in your community, your voice carries weight.

So the question becomes: what are you putting into the world? And just as important—what are you allowing into your mind?

Cole’s honesty shines when he admits:

“I was lost back then, I was blind, deaf, and dumb… but I knew I’d find me a way”

That’s life. None of us start out fully aware or fully aligned. We go through phases—confusion, ego, adversity, discovery, purpose. And that journey isn’t something to be ashamed of. It’s necessary.

What makes this line resonate is how it reflects our own paths. We’re all figuring things out—careers, identity, relationships, faith. There are moments we’ll look back on and realize we weren’t fully ourselves yet. But that doesn’t mean we were failing—it means we were becoming.

The message here is simple, but powerful: evolve. Learn. Stay open. And don’t be afraid to outgrow old versions of yourself.

Most importantly, don’t dim your light to make others comfortable. You were created with intention. Your gifts—whether intellectual, creative, or spiritual—are meant to be used, not hidden.

“Safety” by J. Cole: A Letter to the Community We Can’t Ignore

On “Safety,” J. Cole channels the spirit of Nas’s classic “One Love,” using the format of personal letters from a friend to paint a vivid picture of life back home. The song doesn’t rely on dramatics. Instead, Cole leans into honesty and vulnerability, mimicking the way we all talk to our close friends and family. In the second verse, a childhood friend updates Cole on what’s happening in the neighborhood:

“I heard that big Mal died, and, no, I couldn’t tell you the cause
I know fentanyl’s been leavin’ brothers cross-eyed and things
Can’t tell what’s killin’ more niggas, drugs or crossfire
When moms cry, it’s a shame”

These bars hit hard because there’s no exaggeration in them. For many communities, this is daily life. Loss has become so common that people sometimes speak about death with emotional exhaustion rather than shock. Cole captures that dangerous numbness perfectly — the feeling of being surrounded by so much pain that tragedy starts to sound routine.

But then he grounds the verse with one simple line:

“When moms cry, it’s a shame.”

That line restores humanity to everything being discussed.

The Weight of Losing Our People

Across our communities, maternal figures hold families together. Whether it’s your biological mother, grandmother, auntie, older cousin, church mother, or the woman down the street who made sure you ate before going home — many of us were raised by entire networks of care.

With this in mind, the pain caused by violence and addiction doesn’t stop with the person who dies. It ripples through entire families and neighborhoods. Every funeral leaves emotional scars behind. Every overdose, every shooting, every memorial T-shirt represents somebody who was loved.

And unfortunately, the statistics reflect the reality Cole is speaking about.

According to the Drug Enforcement Administration (DEA), fentanyl is one of the primary drivers behind the sharp rise in overdose deaths in recent years because of its extreme potency. Similarly, a Rutgers University study on gun violence exposure in Black communities found that nearly 60% of Black adults in the United States have been exposed to gun violence, while many also experience lasting physical and psychological effects from that exposure.

Those numbers are heartbreaking, but they also explain why Cole’s words feel so heavy. He isn’t talking about isolated incidents. He’s speaking on cycles that many families know all too well.

And yet, beneath the sadness of the verse is an important reminder: our lives matter, even when the world conditions us to believe otherwise.

Later in the song, Cole raps:

“As of late, I’ve seen
An uptick in motorcades, but not for the president
These processions are for the negligent”

The imagery is chilling. Funeral processions have become so common that they almost resemble official ceremonies. But Cole makes it clear these are not celebrations of achievement — they are processions for people who were failed long before they died.

Failed by systems.
Failed by environments.
Failed by cycles of poverty and instability.
And sometimes, failed by the absence of guidance and support.

Data from the Office of Juvenile Justice and Delinquency Prevention shows that in 2023, 44.6% of Black children in the United States lived in two-parent households, compared to higher percentages among white and Hispanic households. Research from the Institute for Family Studies also suggests that children raised in stable, supportive homes are more likely to avoid poverty and incarceration while achieving stronger educational outcomes.

But this conversation is bigger than statistics.

Our communities have always survived through collective responsibility. Even when structures fail us, we have historically leaned on mentorship, extended family, cultural guidance, and community care to help raise the next generation. Instead of interpreting Cole’s lyrics as condemnation, we should treat them as a a warning: if we don’t invest in our youth emotionally, spiritually, and economically, we risk normalizing cycles that continue to bury our people too early.

The Conversation Around Young Black Men

Cole continues:

“So I don’t care to hang out
These younger niggas even quicker than I was to bang-out”

There’s an ongoing conversation happening around young Black men — about anger, hopelessness, recklessness, and emotional detachment. Too often, young brothers are introduced to survival mode before they ever experience peace. Social media amplifies harmful behaviors, rewards shock value, and sometimes turns self-destruction into entertainment.

You see it in reckless online trends.
You see it in performative aggression.
You see it in how vulnerability is mocked while dysfunction is celebrated.

And underneath much of it is pain.

Pain from neglect.
Pain from instability.
Pain from feeling unseen.
Pain from believing there’s nothing meaningful to lose.

Cole recognizes that energy because he came from similar environments himself. But now, as an older man with wisdom, success, and perspective, he understands the importance of distance from destructive mindsets. Still, the song doesn’t come across as abandoning young people. If anything, it sounds like disappointment mixed with concern.

That matters because influence can save lives.

Not just celebrity influence, either. Community influence. Big brother influence. Teacher influence. Coach influence. Father influence. The influence of ordinary people deciding to pour into the next generation instead of giving up on them.

Cole understands that healing a community starts by telling the truth about what it’s experiencing. And the truth is that many of our neighborhoods are carrying enormous grief. But grief does not have to be the end of the story.

There is still room for guidance.
Still room for accountability.
Still room for healing.
Still room for love.

If we truly value one another, then protecting Black life — emotionally, spiritually, physically, and collectively — has to become part of the culture too.

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Muzik and Manifestationz has been created to act as an insurgence of empowering media for disenfranchised and marginalized communities to reclaim their confidence, clarity and hope amidst troubling circumstances. These circumstances include increased harmful propaganda, social media addiction, cognitive decline, economic uncertainty, drug addiction, violence and mental health crises. M&M will leverage hiphop music as a cultural connector to reinforce themes of spiritual, economic and political empowerment through the creative analysis and re-distribution of hip hop lyrics across various digital and in-person channels.

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