Houston writer Shea Serrano's ’Rap Yearbook’ gets the docu-series treatment, produced by The Roots and Academy Award-winning documentarian Alex Gibney.
Hip-hop
Drake, Canada’s biggest Texas hip-hop fan, is putting his money where his mouth is.
Two decades after a tragic car accident, The D.O.C., a West Coast rap pioneer and Dallas native, made a triumphant return to the stage in his hometown.
How the Houston-based writer went from ”this sounds super f—ing boring” to the author of a new book.
No one can do it better, including getting plaques that were stolen from him back from a pawn shop in North Texas.
He was one of the most influential cultural figures in Texas—a generous godfather to a generation of rappers, an entrepreneur of Houston's mean streets, the master of a scene fueled by codeine cough syrup and hip-hop beats. When he overdosed in November at the age of 29, it was easy to dismiss him as yet another musician who succumbed to his own success. But his story is more complicated than that.
Houston’s new movers and shakers don’t hang with the Wyatts or Sakowitzes. They’re Eightball, Scarface, Lil’ Keke, and the other power players of the city’s rap music scene.
Most people from Dallas who make it big in the music business get out of town as soon as they can. “That’s what celebrities do,” Erykah Badu says. “I never wanted to be a celebrity.”
For all her talent and poise, Beyoncé didn't become the biggest star in the world without help. And she got plenty of it from the people who know her best.
Meet the senior class of what might be called Texas Music U. four up-and-coming acts that should graduate to the big time.
Carrollton’s Vanilla Ice is the country’s coolest rapper, and several other Texas acts are hot on his heels.
