For all of the influence the Bay Area has had on contemporary rap, it feels disproportionately undervalued and misunderstood, if not completely ignored, in the national conversation. practically everywhere except, of course, New York.Īnd yet, as 40 so eloquently put it, still they don't f*** wit us. Today, you can find traces of Bay game sprinkled throughout Los Angeles, Detroit, Texas, Atlanta, Kansas City, San Diego, Seattle. The most successful rapper-turned-record-mogul of the '90s started his empire with a tiny record store in Richmond (Master P). The most important street rapper of all time cut his teeth in the North Bay projects of Marin City (2Pac). The first major crossover pop-rap star came from Oakland ( MC Hammer). Ever since the early '80s, when Oakland's Too $hort began selling homemade tapes full of 'dirty rapps' set to menacing synth lines and trunk-rattling 808s, the Bay's formulas for low-end slaps, linguistic elasticity, independent entrepreneurship and flamboyant personalities have gradually trickled outward. It's also one of the more influential ones. There's some truth in those complaints, though, even if it is more likely a matter of hate-by-omission.ĭrawing on a complex and sometimes contradictory set of regionally dominant impulses - pimp culture, social justice, car culture, drug culture, funk music - the San Francisco Bay Area has long been one of the deepest, most insular and most inscrutable rap regions. 40 was speaking in the singular but representing for an entire class of perpetually aggrieved rap listeners, whose cries of 'quit hatin' the bay!' would get so loud by the early '10s that the phrase became the name of a popular mixtape series. 'They never put me on the cover of The Source!' If you've talked to a certain type of Bay Area rap fan - or artist, for that matter - in the decades since, you might be familiar with this sentiment.

'Why They Don't F*** Wit Us,' from 2002's Grit & Grind, finds the multiplatinum Vallejo rapper airing a bevy of grievances - he's been stolen from, slept on, eternally underrated. The first song on E-40's seventh album is a plea for recognition.

As it celebrates its 50th birthday, we are mapping hip-hop's story on a local level, with more than a dozen city-specific histories of the music and culture.

Please tell me why freestyle