By Jasmyne Cannick  

Once upon a time, hip-hop was the voice of the streets. It was a movement, a message, and a megaphone for Black empowerment and communal struggle. Born from block parties and sound systems in the Bronx, N.Y., it was raw, unfiltered, and unapologetically Black. It was a blueprint for survival. But somewhere along the way, the cipher got hijacked by the almighty dollar, and now we’re left wondering: when did hip-hop trade its soul for a stack?

They Caught the Vapors

Soulja Boy, Rick Ross, Nelly, and the Doggfather himself, Snoop. These are the same artists who once rode waves of Black creativity, who stood on the shoulders of a community that built them up, only to later moonwalk into Donald Trump’s inaugural events like it was a VIP lounge. And yes, Black people have every right to critique that.

The hypocrisy is staggering. These Black hip-hop artists celebrating the election of Donald Trump is baffling. In Trump’s very first hours in office, he signed executive orders that directly harmed Black and Brown communities, including his pardoning of leaders from extremist groups like the Proud Boys and the Oath Keepers — organizations tied to white supremacist ideologies and violent white-power movements.

Snoop Dogg’s decision to perform at a Trump-related event directly contradicts his outspoken criticism of Trump in 2017. Back then, he was vocal about rejecting Trump and everything he stood for, positioning himself as someone who wouldn’t sell out for any price. Fast forward to now, and his involvement in a Trump celebration feels like a complete 180, leaving fans questioning his authenticity and commitment to principles he once preached.

That’s why we’re upset.

The Crossover

We’ve seen this coming for a while now. The slow but steady shift of hip-hop from a movement to a money-making machine has been happening for decades. It was only a matter of time before we hit this embarrassing moment.

Let’s not sugarcoat it: Trump’s inauguration wasn’t some neutral gig. It was built on policies and rhetoric that harm Black and Brown communities. To stand on it as a Black artist, pocket the money, and then retreat to your mansion feels like the ultimate betrayal.

Rappers used to talk about surviving the struggle–now it’s all about thriving in excess. If it’s not sex or drugs, every other line brags about a Birkin bag, a private jet, or a stack of cash that’s apparently so heavy it’s a workout just to hold it.

The Message

Hip-hop is supposed to be bigger than flexing on the gram. It’s supposed to be about truth, resilience, and resistance. Those of us old enough to remember the history and evolution of hip-hop know this better than anyone. We remember when it was a lifeline, a mirror for the struggle, and a call to action, not just a showcase of wealth. But for younger generations, some of whom have only known hip-hop that is obsessed with money and status, it’s a different story.

So, yes, folks have every right to question when the moves don’t align with the culture. If we don’t hold hip hop accountable, who will?

About the Author  

Jasmyne Cannick is based in Los Angeles and is an award-winning journalist and political commentator who writes to challenge, critique, and hold the culture accountable. 

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