A few days ago, I was reading the new issue of XXL magazine, and just like many of the readers of websites that also reported it [click here], I was shocked, if not pensive to read that Snoop Dogg has enlisted writers for his latest lyrics. When you think about it, it made perfect sense, that the O.G., an avid smoker of greens, didn’t actually pen the cigarette-smoking endorsement in “Sexual Seduction.” Instead, it was longtime Young Jeezy producer (and perhaps songwriter) Shawty Redd, who even in his Scratch magazine layout last year, was pictured puffin’ on a cancer stick. All tobacco mentionables aside, it’s hard to believe that the same man that astounded us with his seemingly improvisational dopeness on “Pump, Pump” and “Stranded on Death Row” would ever pay for any others’ lyrics. Then again, in this modern man’s hustle of rap music, who could blame him? Vh1’s reality show, which I have not yet watched, will likely garner the godfather more gwap than Ego Trippin’ scans are projected to. It’s a sad state of affairs.

My thoughts led me further. As Snoop Dogg gets a pass for paying for writers, why are we so critical of Fat Joe? Firstly, Fat Joe has yet to come forward and admit this longstanding rumor. Secondly, many of the very reasons bloggers, self-proclaimed critics and street conversations have skewed the “fat gangster” simply don’t seem to matter in the context of the braided coastal counterpart.

Let me come right out and say it – I truly respect the work of Fat Joe. In my carefully manicured CD, tape and record collection, I own more Fat Joe material than Big Pun’s, not de facto, but apparent of taste. Fat Joe has had the chance to evolve, as an artist, as a person, a businessman, and certainly our criticisms and commerce has had a heavy hand in molding him.

In my recent interview with Joe [click here], I chose to look more at that man’s accomplishments than his perceived failures. A lifelong follower of the almighty Diggin’ In The Crates crew, Fat Joe has remained one of the most versatile artists in the game. Though I doubt I can change anyone’s mind per se, allow me to at least offer a defense of the man who rarely gets a chance to address his critics.

It was around the time of the 1-9-9-9, and your boy was in high school, learning much more about A.G. than algebra; with an issue of Ego Trip faithfully tucked within my textbooks to read in class. At that time, our school’s deejay du jour, DJ Teknikz had made a tape, which included a lot of talent, but truly opened me up to the artistry of Fat Joe. Previous to this, I'd given the man a nod through his cameo verses with Pun and The Beatnuts, but never took the train past that stop. Tucked between a blend of Eazy E/Usher blend and an OutKast remix (that I still need to digitize), Nik snuck in “Envy” from the least known of Joe’s albums. Perhaps the epitome of the Diddy-sample/cover era, the “Sexual Healing” redux had hard, tangible lyrics that allowed me to look at Joe as more than Big Pun’s video accomplice, but as a talented emcee in his own right. The ensuing D.I.T.C. album on Tommy Boy only added to that, mesmerizing me that the same man who would make “What’s Luv” later that year, could be embraced and attached to Lord Finesse, O.C. and Diamond D, three of my heroes.

Speaking of D.I.T.C., nearly 10 years later, the education continued. For as much as I love Joe’s 1993 debut for its attitude and booming beats, I simply thought that it started there. Last year, Jazzy Jay and the good people at Traffic Entertainment showed me otherwise. Intended to be released circa 1988-1988, The Ultimate Force finally released I’m Not Playin’ [click here] last year. Backed by the coveted single of the same name, the duo of Master Rob and Diamond D welcomed their neighbor from the Forrest Projects to appear on the song “Oh Shit.” Yup, a teenage Fat Joe was getting it in a la Jay-Z on “Hawaiian Sophie” over five years before he actually did. The whole album is an outstanding walk back in time, but it only continued in my on-going appreciation for the one of the only rappers still holding down Hip Hop’s birthplace in the mainstream today.

Then there was 2003. One of the moments I’ll forever hold in my heart from my dealings in this game was attending The Zulu Nation 30th Anniversary at SOB’s in New York. Seeing the Soulsonic Force live was incredible. Watching D.I.T.C. form like Voltron was life-changing. However, one of the most tangible moments in my “beers and bullshit” storytelling was watching Fat Joe enter the place. Draped in his signature iced-out Terror Squad medallion, surrounded by henchmen that looked like caricatures from a Rockstar video game, Joe entered the party, gave pounds to the roughnecks, and b-lined for the microphone. Joey Crack kicked freestyles alongside KRS-ONE, Jeru Da Damaja and his D.I.T.C. brethren with Roc Raida on the cut for over 30 minutes. If he had a ghostwriter that night, he had a good one, because the god murdered the microphone, and undoubtedly won over a skeptical crowd. Continued on page 2 »