I’ve been able to use my 16+ years as a music & culture journalist to step in and help the TIDAL social team with top level strategy, ideation, copywriting, community management, and culture alignment.

Some of the micro-strategies I’ve built from scratch around key dates & cultural moments have been: Black Music Month, GRAMMYs, the release of De La Soul’s catalog on streaming platforms, and the TIDAL’s Artist 2 Watch feature. I’ve also develop evergreen strategies and content ideas for Elliott Wilson, esteemed journalist and TIDAL’s Chief Content Officer.

AAA*: AAA is a video game industry classification to denote games and franchises of the highest budgets and profiles, often considered “blockbuster” titles.

My first foray into the video game world was to lead social for the AAA* franchise Borderlands, produced by Gearbox and published by 2K Games. Borderlands is a first person, action role-playing looter shooter set against a futuristic, space Western backdrop. Having shipped well over 80 million games worldwide, Borderlands is one of the best-selling video game franchise of all time.

I managed a small team that oversaw the organic social marketing efforts for the main Borderlands handles and the social campaigns & accounts for the spin-off games such as Tiny Tina’s Wonderlands. In my time there, we successfully launched the latest edition in Borderlands spin-off games, New Tales From The Borderlands. I oversaw the launch of Borderlands onto YouTube Shorts and introduced new content series to help bridge the gap between pop culture and video game culture, such as 2K Style that highlights the different character customizations – a first for narrative based games.

My team & I were able to activate at PAX West, hiring a production team to shoot and edit convention content with fans and big name influencers that we were able to package into 20+ different assets to drive our entire social campaign for New Tales from the Borderlands.

My team also closed out the social campaign for the AAA* narrative-based game The Quarry, capping off a successful campaign that saw us extend its life by an extra 2 months, helping to keep sales high through key sales dates.

Titles worked: Looney Tunes Cartoons, Expecting Amy, American Pickle, Superintelligence, Locked Down, Frayed, Close Enough, Fresh Prince Reunion, West Wing Reunion, Hacks, Made For Love, It’s A Sin, Station Eleven, DC’s Doom Patrol, DC’s Titans, DC’s Harley Quinn The Animated Series, DC’s Peacemaker, Justice League Snyder Cut, DC’s Pennyworth, DC’s DMZ.

(bold denotes marketing/creative campaign award wins)

I got to the HBO Max Originals Marketing team – pre-launch – as one of the first 10 employees hired in the department. During my first few months, in addition to my job responsibilities, I also helped to fully scope out the roles & responsibilities for the department and set the standard for how social & community management would be carried out. I developed an organic social centered, fan focused community management approach built around crafting the right voice and tone for our content, copy, and community engagement.

With my specialized approach to voice & tone and community management, I was able to more than double the follower count for DC’s Doom Patrol across all platforms in 3 months while the show was on hiatus. Due to the success of growing the social following in the offseason, I was able to raise the marketing budget for the show going into season’s 2-4 and raise its overall priority. Over my time as the voice of Doom Patrol on social, I grew the Twitter following from 19k to 79k and the Instagram following from 40k to 110k. I also had the pleasure of conceptualizing and developing Doom Patrol’s highest viewed and engaged content series, the F**K Counter, which has taken on a life of its own. It is the only content series that any DC Comics show continued on social from season to season!

Following up my success with Doom Patrol, I took those learnings into launching the official Justice League Snyder Cut social handles, reaching 10k followers on Twitter in less that 3 minutes after going live and 100k by the end of the 2nd day. Fan inclusion is everything and our social campaign leaned on empowering each and every Associate Producer fan on the Snyder Cut to feel a part of the marketing. Using social listening, we were able to be both proactive and reactive in how we super served the fan base responsible for bringing the film to life.

Taking the steam and learnings from 2 years of working on large fandom and culturally massive IP’s at HBO Max, my team & I were able to deliver a fully robust marketing campaign for Peacemaker. Our Shorty Award winning community management presence and voice & tone won over fans so well that cast members of the show was convinced the title’s star, John Cena, was running the accounts himself! We were able to successfully launch and maintain a powerful social presence for the first 4-5 months of the campaign with no content to market with or against. Using Peacemaker’s unique voice, I crafted a robust community management plan built around engaging with and playfully antagonizing rivals in a way only Peacemaker can!

In addition to my social and creative work, I was able to call upon my previous experiential work and activate as the largest comic book studio presence at San Diego Comic Con and New York Comic Con. In San Diego, we created an outdoor obstacle course putting fans through the ringer for their chance to join Peacemaker’s team and wrapped up by a surprise appearance by Peacemaker himself!

At NYCC, we were able to activate for Doom Patrol with a full outdoor mini-carnival and complete with a live interview panel with the cast. For Peacemaker, I was able to turn around a last minute idea into a full out guerrilla marketing campaign. In 48 hours, I was able to get “Wanted” posters for Peacemaker printed and flier bombed across New York City, autographed John Cena posters for fan giveaway, and the pièce de résistance – an $800 original print of the Peacemaker #1 comic!

Overall, during my tenure at HBO Max, every DC Comics account that I managed kept a consistent and active engagement rate of over 4% even in between seasons with little to no new content. Every DC account I inherited – Doom Patrol, Titans, Harley Quinn – saw its follower count double during my time managing them.

HBO’s The Watchmen

The Watchmen is one of the comic book world’s most cherished and acclaimed IP since debuting in DC Comic’s 50th Anniversary Spotlight comic. Since then, the IP has gone on to become a cult classic even amongst casual fans and culminating in a 2009 theatrical movie. About a year before HBO would launch their take on the IP, I was brought in to research and develop a cultural & creative research deck to identify opportunities and target a new, multicultural audience to the title. The 40 slide research deck included a deep dive into the “Black nerd”, or “Blerd” culture with reference points, connective tissues between the African-American community and the science fiction genre, and guidelines on how to effectively market to an otherwise traditionally maligned and ignored consumer base.

This deck would go on to inform the strategy and multicultural marketing approach for what quickly became 2019’s most popular show across all networks.

HBO’s The Shop

Thrusted into the role of Creative & Experiential Strategy, I was given three weeks to plan, program, and execute a robust strategy of how to activate for LeBron James’ talk show – The Shop – at ComplexCon 2018. The end results? My team & I partnered with Universal Music Group/Capitol Music Group to create two days of panel conversations called Capitol Conversations. Using executives at music’s most popular labels and a mix of established and up & coming artists, we recreated the magic of the show live while giving out free haircuts to all who came. Special guests to the activation included: Nas, Grant Hill, Big Boy, Nick Grant, Icewear Vezzo, Matt Ox, Tinashe, Pusha T, Demetrius Shipp Jr., Shiggy, Victor Cruz, Jarrett Jack, A Boogie Wit da Hoodie, and more!

Power, Season 6

To launch the final season of cable television’s second most watched show, my team & I conceptualized and executed the full creative and social strategy focusing on the drama and tension leading up to the jaw-dropping moments of the final season. Throughout the campaign, we: developed, executed, and tweaked-on-the-fly our content and social strategy – using community management and analytics to deliver strong assets, copywriting, and community management.

Strong Black Lead

To launch their African-American centric social vertical, Strong Black Lead, I was brought in as a Social Media Manager to develop a social calendar, ideate content, and lead community management initiatives. My team & I assisted in developing the branding and collateral and helped to facilitate major initiatives such as A Great Day In Hollywood. In my time on the vertical, I also served in a creative role, having written and produced the highest performing content for the vertical during my time as Social Media Manager and Social Strategist for the vertical such as the Jennifer Lewis tribute and the Titus Andromedon Appreciation video. Leaning into my expertise as a music & culture journalist, I was able to super serve our target demographic the voice/tone and content they wanted while luring in new fans.

Rhythm & Flow

Rhythm & Flow is Netflix’s first Hip-Hop reality competition show. Hosted by rap luminaries T.I., Cardi B, and Chance The Rapper, I was brought on by the team as a Social Strategist and consultant to ensure our social campaign authentically connected with the Hip-Hop culture. Using my decade of experience as a music journalist, I was able to assist my team in capturing and highlighting the important cultural moments in the show to turn into social assets and create moments authentic to the culture and spirit of Hip-Hop.

Eminem is the most prolific and successful rapper of all time. His stats can’t be faded. When it’s all said and done, we’ll be retiring his number in every stadium he’s ever sold out.

With over 100 million records sold worldwide, an Oscar for Best Original Song, 10 No. 1 albums, more than 1 billion streams on Spotify, two top 100, all-time best selling albums, Marshall Bruce Mathers III is the highest selling rapper of all time. His top five status should be firmly cemented.

The respect for Em also extends to the greatest names in hip-hop. In 2012, VIBE compiled a list of the top 40 compliments Eminem has been given from his peers with names stretching from Scarface to Redman to Jay-Z. In a 2008 interview with BBC, Nas says of Em, “He contributes so much lyrically and musically. He’s amazing.” In a 2010 conversation with Hot 97, Kanye West is on record as saying, “Nobody’s gonna be bigger than Eminem.”

So why does it seem like he isn’t getting the respect he deserves in his own city?

In a recent interview with Say Cheese TV, Detroit rapper Sada Baby – when asked if Eminem was a top five rapper – said, “Out of Detroit? Hell naw. You talking about my Detroit?” While the internet took that quote and decided their varying levels of agreement or anger, there was one thing Sada said that stood out.

“My Detroit.”

While that phrase may not mean anything to outsiders, that distinction means the world to Detroiters.

Detroit is a tale of two cities when it comes to rap. Many know iconic producer J Dilla and wordsmiths like eLZhi and Royce Da 5’9”, but the D has a long, legendary history of street rappers who have helped pave the way. That’s a legacy that younger artists such as Icewear Vezzo, Payroll Giovanni of Doughboyz Cashout, Tee Grizzley, and Sada Baby are pushing forward to this day. As a native Metro Detroiter, artist manager, and digital label manager for Soulspazm Records, Eric “Soko” Reynaert sees both sides as equally important. “The different circles carry a lot of importance in encompassing the variety we have to offer. It’s all important equally because it’s what makes Detroit hip-hop what it is. Detroit’s been running the overseas market touring wise for years, Detroit street rap is making noise in the major label market, Danny Brown’s a fucking star: it’s all good for Detroit hip-hop as a whole.”

The blunt, straightforward approach of Detroit’s street rappers just doesn’t mesh well with Eminem’s style of storytelling and wordplay. Slim Shady’s knack for entendres, stuffing multisyllabic rhyme schemes inside of each bar and floating between different pockets is a dense, complex style that, in Sada Baby’s own admission, most people just don’t get. “Eminem will get to saying some shit [that’s] going over everybody’s head,” Sada shrugged. “I might be able to decipher some of that shit but that nigga’s shit going over everybody head”.

That’s Sada’s Detroit. Among his musical influences are the late, great Detroit street rappers Blade Icewood and Wipeout – both murdered over the beef between their respective crews, Street Lord’z and the Eastside Chedda Boyz. If you truly want to know what a Detroit native lives by, take a listen to the Eastside Chedda Boyz’s “Oh Boy” and Blade Icewood’s “Boy Would You.” The true anthems of the city, both songs deified by their infectious hooks, blunt and deliberate lyrics, and a simplistic yet highly effective message draped in the energy that Detroiters carry with them. They’re not trying to win you over with metaphors and similes, but rather connect to their audience with honesty and directness in their rhyming. Similar styles can be heard in other 313 legends like Big Herk, K Deezy, and even Trick Trick and his Goon Sqwad click that has been active on the city’s music scene since the mid-‘90s. These are the artists that dominated the streets and Detroit radio. Not J Dilla. Not Slum Village. Not Black Milk. Detroit’s lyrical rappers tout immense worldwide respect but have always been relegated to the background in Detroit’s hierarchy, only sniffing radio play by doing jingles for local disc jockeys.

“There’s a street side and a hip-hop side to the music scene in Detroit,” says battle rap pioneer and Detroit MC Marvwon, while explaining the differences amongst the city’s musical landscape. “The funny thing is [that] there’s no difference in level of talent. The only difference is the backdrops.”

Those backdrops are also socioeconomic in nature as Detroit is a city whose residents have been denied basic human necessities. And for the Motor City? There’s no better representation of the city than the music at the most fundamental, street level. As Marv continued to explain, “The division comes from perception. The street cats believe that there hasn’t been an accurate representation of Detroit in the music world.”

Those feelings are echoed throughout the scene. Detroit MC Seven The General traverses through both worlds in a manner that the city hasn’t seen since the late Big Proof (known as Eminem’s close friend, as a member of his group D12). As Seven explains, “When I was incarcerated, we felt that the street aspect of Detroit wasn’t being heard with Eminem. But when I came home in ‘03 and heard Rock Bottom, I realized it was there but it just wasn’t receiving the same attention nationally. It had been held back and secluded to the streets for so long that people felt Eminem didn’t like it or care. It caused a resentment and caused rappers to feel like he doesn’t listen to us so why should we listen to him. It made us ask, ‘Where on the list of Eminem‘s top five Detroit artists would any of us fit?’”

When taking in these factors, it’s easy to see why Eminem doesn’t translate well for Sada Baby. However, Eminem’s impact has transcended not only Detroit but the world. Artists such as Kendrick Lamar, Hopsin, Tyler The Creator, and Juice WRLD are amongst today’s generation of rappers that all list him as a major influence. For better or worse, Em is also a catalyst for today’s druggie rap scene. Street rappers have gone from rapping about selling drugs to today’s scene glorifying the use of Xanax and Percocet – something that Marshall pioneered on his early albums with songs like “Drug Ballad” and “Purple Pills.” And with the blockbuster film 8 Mile and its hit song “Lose Yourself,” Eminem helped take battle rap culture mainstream to unfamiliar audiences.

Thanks to Eminem, Detroit’s street rap and lyrical scenes have crossed over. Somewhere at the intersection of manager/A&R Hex Murda and Big Sean, the worlds collided. As Marv states, “Big Sean, Danny Brown, and anyone else from the city mostly talk about the same things: money, bitches, and bossing up.” For every J Dilla, we now have a Black Milk who can equally rap and produce between both worlds. Where there’s a Dex Osama, there’s a Guilty Simpson and Seven The General whose blunt and brash flows hit you in the chest as hard as their lyrical ability and wordplay.

And don’t get it twisted; Em definitely sees the work that Detroit’s street rappers are putting in. “I have a personal relationship with all of the rappers around him,” Seven says. “I feel he rocks with me and has love for me. If he could see a way for us to make bread together, I feel like he’d pull me in; but D12 is actively in the streets assisting artists. I’ve personally seen what Em does for Detroit like his partnerships with (Metro Detroit sneaker boutique) Burn Rubber and (locally-founded clothing company) Detroit vs Everybody.”

He may not be your flavor but there’s no denying the skill and impact that Em has had on the city of Detroit and the genre as a whole. If Eminem isn’t top five in Detroit, you’re doing it wrong.

Hip-hop may have originated in the Bronx but not even Kool Herc could have imagined the reach and impact that his art-form would soon achieve. Rap officially kicked down the door in 2015 when Spotify reported that hip-hop was the most listened to genre in the world. In 2017, Nielsen’s Music year-end reportshowed that R&B/hip-hop had taken the crown from Rock to be the most purchased music in the United States.

That kind of global reach has empowered new creators from all over the world. For Zimbabwean producer Dakari, hip-hop has provided a way of life for him that he couldn’t have dreamed of. After moving to Dallas, DG would have his coming of age moment in high school that would eventually lead to a world class internship and writing and producing for G-Eazy.

Billboard was able to catch up with Dakari to discuss everything from his African roots, how an internet search led him to an interview at the world renowned Quad Studios, working with G-Eazy, and now building his own album.

How much of your life did you spend in Zimbabwe?

I moved to the U.S. when I was 12. [It was a] huge culture shock. It was really interesting moving because I had always dreamed of moving to America. I had just kissed a girl [for the first time] when I was 12, then I moved to America and kids were talking about third base, fourth base. It was a lot. It was simple things that made things a little bit harder. I actually flew to America [just] 10 days after September 11 so it was really crazy. My dad had to come in [the airport] to get me because I was a minor and he had to have [had] six to eight, huge S.W.A.T. dudes with him to come in and get me. When I landed, everybody was just bigger. I was the big kid in Zimbabwe. I think there may have been one or two kids bigger than me. When I came out here, everybody was just big.

Were you into music in Zimbabwe?

I was in to music but I never knew of it as a career path. My dad at the time lived here in the U.S. so he sent back a keyboard and I used to play on it. I couldn’t record on it because it wasn’t a sequence so I’d play a drum pattern and memorize it and be playing a beat in my head while I play a melody. I would pick [it] up and play with [it] for a month then I’d forget about it for a few months. Then I’d randomly come back to it [and] that’s how it always was. That was music for me back then. I didn’t really listen to music either growing up besides what my mom would listen to but that was all African gospel [and]I didn’t know people made money off of music. We have artists there but I guess being that young I never thought people were making money off of it. There wasn’t that culture for me to be like, “let me go to a concert.” My first real concert I went to was with [G-Eazy] in 2015. That just wasn’t the culture [in Zimbabwe]. Even when I moved here, I didn’t go to shows in high school. I went with my dad once and we saw this Soweto gospel thing that was in town in Dallas but that was it.

Did you pick up music when you moved to Dallas?

My older cousin listened to music. He was with the current stuff, burning CDs from Bearshare or whatever it was. That’s when I kind of started listening to music but even then I wasn’t thinking that I was going to do music. That came about when I was like 16 years old. I stumbled upon people making instrumentals online, selling beats for $20. It just hit me, “People make these instrumentals and they sell them. I want to do that.” That’s really when it started.

What was the first album that stood out to you?

Backtrack to Zimbabwe and the Walkmans — they were probably played out here — but my mom had gotten me one shipped to Zimbabwe because at this point she had already left.  The CD that came with it [was] a Bad Boys 2 Soundtrack. That was the first CD I had and it was the only CD I ever had. I don’t even know if I listened to it front to back but it’s all I had to listen to. So when I got to America, I pretty much just listened to whatever my cousins listened to.

At the time he was into Bone Crusher, Ludacris, they were crazy about Jay-Z, but I never really listened to people’s bodies of work. On top of that, I was never really listening to lyrics. It was really about the overall sound because I remember in Africa I liked Busta Rhymes but I didn’t know what the hell he was saying. He [just] sounded fire. So for most of my life I never listened to the words, really. It was about the energy. I connected to music because of the energy. [So] I just listened to what everybody else was listening to. I didn’t buy any music [either].

When I really felt inspired, it was [Justin Timberlake’s] FutureSex/LoveSounds. That was, to me, really creative. When I look back, what I liked about it was [that] it was organic and it had a part of home for me [in] the rhythms. It was just a good fusion. It didn’t matter where you’re from, people liked that project. People appreciated it. It didn’t matter who was on it; it was just good music. I aspired to be that. I aspired to be part of something like that.

How has your upbringing played into your career?

I feel like people gravitate towards you because of your experiences. One thing that has really played a huge part in my music is that I didn’t listen to lyrics. I believe that most songs that are big or work and connect, they have that effect. I don’t have to understand what you’re saying. Granted, now I listen to lyrics and bars but that is something that has really helped me. I’ll know if something sounds good or not, [even if] I don’t know what you’re saying.

I heard the songs that were big when I was in Africa at the time and whatever came there at the time that was cool, I heard it. It got to me because it was universally accepted so that’s something that really helped. It really helped having an ear from the other side of the pond. Sometimes, there are some things I don’t get. I might hear somebody’s music from a region and I won’t get it but I’ve learned to accept that I don’t get everything. The other thing [that helped] is that I really didn’t have any idols. Really, my only idol was Timbaland and what he was doing but other than that, I didn’t know music to the point where I had legends.

So you come from Zimbabwe, not really thinking about music until the age of 16 and you work your way into an internship at the legendary Quad Studios.

That was later [but] 16 is when I [decided to do] music and that birthday, the only thing I asked my dad at the time – my day is really strict – was could he please unlock the computer so I could install Reason on it. That’s all I wanted for my birthday. So he did it and I put Reason on it and that’s how it started. After high school, I went to a community college and I started working at AAA. [I] worked at the call center for maybe nine months and got promoted to cost performance analyst but I was just miserable.

It didn’t make sense to me to be paying for my school and working a job I don’t like, paying for school I don’t like, [and] investing in something I have no interest in. It was brutally painful so I found an audio engineering school, Media Tech, and it was [too] expensive for me at the time. It was $20,000 for the program so I dropped out because my idea was, “Well whatever money I was going to spend on that semester [at community college], I’m saving it so I can pay for this.” Eventually, my dad helped me out with my down payment because I was about to sit out a second semester.

I moved to New York [at the age of 20] and started interning at Quad [Studios]. The way I found Quad, because I had no idea about Quad, I went on Google. When I was finishing school at Media Tech, I realized [that] there’s nothing for me here. It was either I have to move or this is the end of it here. I could end up being the best guy in Dallas but that was never what I was after. I needed to be at the highest level so my gut told me to move to New York so I just searched on Google, “top studios in New York”, and Quad came up. I started sending my resume six months before I moved and eventually I got the internship.

While you were at Quad, you ascended really quickly up the ranks.

I was the chief engineer. Actually, I interned at Quad for about three months then the studio closed for a year because they were building a new room then I came back after that and I interned for another three months learning the new room. After I was done learning the room, I was broke. I said, “I think I should start getting paid. I know everything about the room,” and they were like, “we can’t pay you right now.” So I quit and I was doing regular shit. At some point, I had like three jobs. Eventually, I went back for some party and they were like, “You interested in engineering?” They would only call me on the sessions other engineers would get kicked out of. I took the sessions and artists liked me and I ended up becoming the Head Engineer.

How did you end up meeting G-Eazy?

G was no different from everybody else I had worked with. He just came to Quad and at the time I didn’t really know who he was. I didn’t really like to be in the room up until the artist was ready to record because before that people would just be vibing and turning up the music; sometimes artists don’t record until four hours into their session. I went in when he was ready to record and met him. He hops in the booth, I sit down, and we just start cruising. Right away I knew I was going to work with him. You know an artist who does this shit and other artists who are trying to do it; and then there are artists who have never done it. When I sat down with G, I knew right away. You couldn’t take away the fact that the man had been working really hard. When he came out the booth I was like, “Bro, you’re great. I’m going to work with you,” and he said, “Damn bro, I was feeling the same way.” We knew what time it was already. He talked to his managers and then fast forward a couple months [when] he came back from tour and [his team] hit me up and was like, “What are you doing at the end of August? Do you wanna mix the album?” So I left Quad and started working with G from then on. After we did When It’s Dark Out,I was done with New York and I moved to L.A.

What is it like working for G-Eazy?

That very first time we met he was like, “Oh so you produced too, right?” He could tell that I produced because of how I engineered but he actually had never heard any of my music. Fast forward to before [the Endless Summer Tour], he’s like, “Yo I want to produce my tape with you. We’re going to produce the mixtape together.” So we started working on Endless Summer 2 and during that process I think he had been reading the book The Beautiful and Damned. Throughout [recording Endless Summer 2] he was talking about the duality of him being a Gemini and it kind of fizzled.

After the tour, we start kind of working [on the album]. I’d spend time in the studio just building tracks in a way that I see as “beautiful” and “damned.” That’s where the title track came from; it kind of sounded beautiful and damned to me. There was another friend of ours, Ed, he helped as far as putting songs together and it was really a vibe. It was very intimate and closed because G knows what he wants.

If [there’s] one thing I love about G is that he’s seriously in touch with home. Every album cycle, we go to the Bay for like a week just so we can tap in with the producers and writers and artists that are in the Bay. It’s so dope because it’s giving that opportunity to come out of the Bay – the way he came out of the Bay – to everyone that’s there. G’s one of those people where he doesn’t have to search for people that are big to get on a song with him. If you’re the person that’s on the song and your verse is hard and and you’re a nobody, he’ll keep that verse [on the record]. That’s how he is and that’s fire to me. I really respect that about him. He’s just a cool dude.

Now you’re working on your own album.

I’m not really doing an album; it’s more like a playlist. What’s happening is that I’m doing a DJ/Producer project. I just wanna release my version of dope and connect with the people that connect with what I like. That’s what being an artist is, really, that enough people like your music. What I’ve kind of realized is just that sometimes other people’s version of dope and my [version of dope] just doesn’t match. I’m not trying to be old and have a bunch of music I thought was dope and it never existed because I never placed it with an artist or because it didn’t click with somebody in the business.

On top of that, it’s more so where I come from. If I was younger and there was somebody like me that I had to look up at like, “Holy shit! This dude came from here and he’s doing this?” Because growing up for me, having a studio like this or flying in a private jet was for other people. We only [saw] that on TV but that’s not the case now. It’s a weird place because I’m a shy person but this is not a humble business [but] t’s really exciting. It’s a cool project and I can experiment. I can try new shit. I’m not trying to conform to nothing [or] catch a wave. I might have a version of dope that’s pop or I might have a version of dope that’s straight, southern hip hop. I’m just putting out my version of dope [and] when it exists, it exists because I feel l’ll feel like this is my stopping point.

It’s been a groundbreaking year for Los Angeles MC Nipsey Hussle. This past February, his major label debut album Victory Lap peaked at No. 4 on the Billboard 200 and his acclaimed LP is garnering Grammy buzz. On Thursday (Oct. 4), he teamed up with the Recording Academy for #NOCOVER — a new documentary series that takes a look at what goes into putting together a concert experience. Swanky West Hollywood digs played home to the screening as

Reporters and industry professionals gathered in West Hollywood for an early look along with a chance to speak with Hussle about the process.

Breaking down how he teamed up with the Academy, Hussle said, “It’s something that Brittany [Bell] at [Atlantic] brought to us as a concept while we were on the road. It was something unique; it was a different approach to covering a tour. When I saw it back, I was impressed. They really captured a moment.” The documentary centers around how Nipsey prepared for the first stop of his Victory Lap Tour at Irving Plaza in New York last June. “I liked the idea of just breaking down the kickoff show of a tour from the artist’s perspective [and] really showing what’s on the artist’s mind while you’re getting ready for your first show of your first album’s tour.”

The documentary gives a creative glimpse of what goes into ticket prices as the viewer is given a live tally of the tour expenses. For the Victory Lap Tour, those expenses pay off in the form of Nip being able to tour with his band for the first time. “I’ve done shows in LA with a band but this the first time we took [the band] across the whole schedule with us. The album is real musical. Its got a lot of musical layers throughout, so I wanted to make sure that when people came to the show, they got that 3D experience.”

Hussle is in his element working with the band. His enjoyment and comfort shines bright as we’re given a look at rehearsal and live show footage. “It was like an extension of the production process of actually making the music, being in the studio [and] picking which sounds you wanna keep and where you wanna put them during the actual production process of the song,” Hussle relayed. “Getting in rehearsals and having the live band there is like dealing with the producer of the music. It’s like creating a unique version of the song for the stage but I can’t take that full credit. Mars and Larrance from 1500 Or Nothin’ played a big role in just getting it together for me.”

#NOCOVER debuts Tuesday (Oct. 9) on the Grammy’s website.

When you think of the pioneers of West Coast rap, there are a handful of names that come to mind: Dr. Dre, Ice Cube, 2Pac, Eazy-E, Snoop Dogg, E-40, Too $hort. Arguably the most deserving name, however, is consistently glossed over. Warren G, as both an artist and producer, is one of the most important names to the culture, and you might not even know why.

The pioneer of the G-funk era not only ushered in a new musical subgenre, but was personally responsible for introducing Snoop Dogg, Kurupt and Daz Dillinger to Dr. Dre, along with being instrumental in helping to shape the sound of Dre’s first solo album, The Chronic.

Billboard was able to sit down with the Regulator to discuss his YouTube Originals documentary G-Funk and his influence on rap.

When I saw this documentary, there were so many details and so many stories that I had never heard before and that I just didn’t know. And it blew me away. What made you want to tell those stories now?

I mean, I been had the stories. I wanted to do a documentary as I, you know, started to grow and [become] more of a veteran in the game. I wanted to help [but] they wanted to change it. They wanted to change a lot and I didn’t want to change nothing. I wanted to keep it 110% real.

So I just left it alone for a long time [until] one day I had a show in Orange County at the Observatory and that’s where I met [director] Karam Gill. He asked if he could film my show. He was just a young kid in college [and it was] like probably [for] a project for class or something.

So, I let him film it. He rolls with me for a while [and] he did a great job on editing the video. So he rolls with me and was documenting footage and doing shows and stuff so I asked him, “Would you be interested in doing a documentary and can you film one?” And he said yes. From there, I just told him about my whole story and then what we did was we [put] it together.

We had everything there but I was trying to decide, “Ok, am I going to do this shit all out of my pocket or do I need to get investors?” That’s [when] I met Gary [Ousdahl].

Without you, hip-hop as a whole wouldn’t be what it is today. How hard was it for you to sit on your accomplishments?

Back in the day, the networks that were doing those stories on a lot of artists never asked. That’s one thing that made me say, “You know what? I’m gonna do it myself.” They never got at me to do it. I’m seeing everybody’s stories that I was apart of but I never got [mentioned]. Nobody never knew nothing about me or what I’ve done.

It wasn’t like I was bitter but I want the culture, the hip-hop culture, and West Coast hip-hop culture and the young hip-hop culture to know that I was a factor in this shit here. I’m not saying I’m the one who did everything over here because I’m not, [I] just [want people] to know who I am and what I contributed to hip-hop. That’s it.

One of the most interesting things about this documentary is that Kurupt said, and I quote, “Warren wasn’t scared of Suge. He said, ‘Fuck you,’  and did his own thing.” I think that says a lot, because in that era, everybody was scared of Suge. It didn’t matter how hard you were or how hard you thought you were. How was that time for you?

I’m gonna tell you like this: At that time, we had went through an era of nothing but murder. Nothing but murders, killings, shootings, [and] going to jail. I’m used to this already. I’m not gon’ be scared of no man. I don’t care who it is. I don’t care how much of a killer you are or how many people you done killed. That don’t mean nothing to me. I ain’t trying to be hard but I ain’t gon’ let nobody back me into a corner.

I got love for everybody. I ain’t got nothing against Suge, I don’t hate him. Shit, I just don’t deal with it. I just go to my own lane, away from that. So if somebody come picking with me and they asking for that, then you can get that. And like with that situation, it just was what it was. You know, I bounced out and did my own thing. What else am I supposed to do? If he ain’t fucking with me [then] what am I supposed to do? Just sit there and keep begging on my knees and crawling and shit? Hell nah, I’m gone. I ain’t tripping.

I remember the ’94 Billboard Awards, watching you coming down from the audience with Michael Clarke Duncan in front of you and Nate Dogg coming down on the other side.

Don’t nobody even know that [Michael Clarke Duncan] was my security, man. That was my dog right there.

What I didn’t know and what I don’t think anybody knew was the tension between you and Suge and Nate Dogg doing the show despite Suge not wanting him to.

It wasn’t no tension with me. The tension was that they was saying that Nate couldn’t perform. And that was not gon’ happen. That’s my homeboy. Ain’t nobody gon’ tell him he can’t perform, he with me. I mean he’s a grown man. And he getting paid. I just said, “Nate come do this show. Let’s get it done. You getting paid, ain’t nobody getting ready to fuck with you up here. We doing the show.”

Something else that isn’t widely known is your influence and involvement with The Chronic. What where those days like? You were doing the sample hunting, you were doing those original sample chops for tracks like “Lil’ Ghetto Boy” and “Let Me Ride” that were interpolated differently. What was that process like?

Just going out digging for records, man. That’s all I wanted to do with all of them. [I] was digging for ideas and shit that sound good and feel good. But Dre taught me. He taught me how to produce. He taught me how to work that motherfucking MPC60 and after that I just started going into my own zones trying to help him however I could help. That’s all I wanted to do. That’s my guy even though we haven’t talked in a minute. He been busy, I been busy, but that’s my dog.

Seeing as how Dr. Dre is your brother, you were around during the beginnings of N.W.A.

Yes, indeed. I didn’t do nothing production wise but as far as skits, yes. We did the “1-900-2-Compton” skit on the Niggaz4Life album. I was the guy in jail and I was like, “Man get your motherfucking hands up off me.” I had did that. They groomed me, man. Dre, N.W.A, Easy E, all them groomed me, man. Them was the guys I looked up to. And I still look up to them. I’m off they family tree. I’m a branch from the tree and from my branch comes everything else.

Your influence is so wide-reaching. You can hear G-funk in music from Louisiana in old Big Tymers albums to Detroit with the way Denaun Porter sings hooks. You can hear YG’s music is heavily G-funk influenced. Your sound has spanned generations. What does that mean to you?

It’s dope, man. The guys who started me off, who made me part of G-funk, was Above The Law. 187, KMG, Go Mack, Total K-Oss, and Laylaw took me in as a young kid and groomed me also. When nobody didn’t want to work with me, they took me in. When things started going the way it went [for] them with Ruthless, everything kind of faded away a little bit but I kept the name alive. I’m a part of that so I kept that alive and then I took it worldwide. But them are guys who put me in G-funk and I took it to another level. I’m the G-funk era.

I know a lot guys think

Some of these dudes shot to the top and they ain’t never went through the things that we had to go through. In our day you had to be really good to get put on. Nowadays anybody could do anything. You could fart on a song and put it on a beat and loop it and say some words to it and these motherfuckers will take that shit and be like, “Oh, that’s dope.”