“You got your good, you know, and you got your bad. You got your food, and your liquor”

One of my favorite Hip Hop albums of all time is Lupe Fiasco’s Food and Liquor, and has been for a long time. In high school English my class once discussed the elements that classify certain literature as “classic,” generating ideas such as timeless messages, relatable characters and producing the feeling of a new discovery while reading for it the umpteenth time. Under these criteria, Food and Liquor most assuredly deserves the same title. I was initially attracted to the album by its organized, powerful beats and Lupe’s smooth voice, not to mention his incredibly unique flow. The way his voice so effortlessly cascaded over the instrumentals struck me in a new way that Hip Hop had previously been unable to accomplish. I focused on memorizing every word of “Kick Push,” absorbing Lupe’s passion for skateboarding, let my mind enjoy the quick word-play and sharp lyricism of “I Gotcha” and used “The Emperor’s Soundtrack” to harness my adrenaline before sporting events. I adapted the album and used it to get closer to Lupe, in turn helping me transition into the world of Hip Hop. The album reached me at a surface level; I took delight in the sound, and lost myself in the feeling it created. The meaning behind it, upon first listen, eluded me.

I return now to dig deeper, and pronounce Food and Liquor as one of the most socially conscious rap albums of all time, and secure it unequivocally among my top three favorites. One of the most important segments of the entire seventy-two minutes occurs in the first sixty seconds, in the “Intro.” So eager to hear the album, I used to foolishly skip over the prelude; for years its message escaped me and therefore misguided the rest of my listening experience. Lupe’s sister, Iesha Jaco, performs a spoken word poem to commence the album, accurately describing common landmarks and summarizing the culture of low-income, impoverished neighborhoods. She brilliantly identifies how these areas are overpopulated by unhealthy, inexpensive food dispensaries such as fast food restaurants and liquor stores, adding the first layer of meaning to the album’s title. The poem sets the tone for the rest of the tracks, establishing that this album was born in and evolved from the West side of Chicago, and addresses many of the problems Lupe witnessed.

One way he accomplishes this is through storytelling. In a number of songs, including “He Say She Say,” “The Cool,” and “Kick Push (II)” Lupe divulges short anecdotes that illustrate the problems about which he is concerned. “He Say She Say” tells the story of a child growing up without a father, and how that negatively impacts his life. Both verses are identical except that the first is from the mother’s perspective, and the second is from the boy’s, meaning the only words that change are the pronouns: him changes to me, his to mine, etc. The impact is enormous. Or “The Cool,” which tells the story of a drug dealer shot on the street, who wakes up in his grave, returns to his home with a different appearance and gets robbed by the same men who killed him. When threatened with a gun he responds, “Hustler for death, no heaven for a gangster.” Lupe drastically explains how a lifestyle of selling drugs can be impossible to escape from, saying that this man is a “Hustler for death” opposed to a “Hustler for life.”

Perhaps my favorite verse on the entire album is the first portion of “Hurt Me Soul,” a lyrically brilliant statement about Hip Hop and American politics. The first verse addresses Lupe’s initial conflicts with the genre of Hip Hop, citing notoriously crude and controversial rapper Too Short and his use of the word “bitch.” However, Lupe explains how his experiences allowed him to relate to the culture and see past Too Short to its real value. Lupe, unlike other rappers, uses Hip Hop as a mechanism to reach his audience- not one of consumers, but of people who share the same experiences or are dedicated to social change. “Hurt Me Soul” is about the ramifications that US policy has on the individual person, especially underprivileged Americans, and Lupe represents that. He is serving as a voice for these people, advocating on their behalf when nobody else will. That is the essence of Food and Liquor. That is why Lupe is a socially conscious Hip Hop artist. He has experienced adversity, he is familiar with the struggle, and despite his success and fame he continues to be aware of it. Iesha Jaco finishes her introductory poem with the line, “But God has another solution, that has evolved from the hood.. I present one who turns, the Fiasco to good.” For anyone attempting to find social justice in Hip Hop, look no further.