Hip-Hop, for many, is a genre oriented around story telling, amazing wordplay, and intricate rhyme schemes. It’s a genre devoted to telling stories from the unheard about the unheard. In truth, many current Hip-Hop fans reminisce on a time when “Hip-Hop was real,” a time where Hip-Hop wasn’t oversaturated with much ado about nothing, a time where rappers were “really saying something.” These rap purists paint “old school rap” as a monolithic musical excursion filled with verses imbibed with such lyrical skill your favorite poet would tremble at the thought of them. What these rap purists tend to forget is that Hip-Hop has always encompassed many subgenres within it. The foundations of the genre do, in fact, have roots in wordsmiths such as Gil Scott-Heron or The Last Poets, but the syncretic foundation of Hip-Hop is one not solely focused on intricate and complex storytelling.

As KRS-One went on to say, the five pillars of Hip-Hop are: Breakdancing, MCing, DJing, Grafitti Writing, and Knowledge. It was birthed in the early seventies in the Bronx, primarily by African-American youth. DJs such as Kool Herc, Afrika Bambaataa, and Grandmaster Flash revolutionized the music world by breaking up songs and blending them with other beats—thus, the art of DJing was created. With this came the MC. His job was initially just to hype the DJ up: the DJ was the star of the show. This, naturally, evolved into rapping and thus Hip-Hop as its own genre was created.

While Hip-Hop began its creation in the early seventies, it wasn’t until the early eighties that this lyrical story-telling about the plight of the ghetto truly came into fruition with “The Message” by Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five. Before, songs like The Sugarhill Gang’s “Rapper’s Delight” flooded the airways with lyrics like “But first, I gotta bang bang the boogie to the boogie say up jump the boogie to the bang bang boogie.” “The Message” was the first Hip-Hop song to offer an overt renunciation and observation of social conditions, particularly for Black folks in the ghetto. In this same time span, there were also songs like Warp 9’s “Light Years Away” which offered psychedelic, Hip-Hopping Afrofuturism.

As Hip-Hop expanded in popularity, it also expanded in creativity. Different subgenres, reiterations, and interpretations of what it meant to be a Hip-Hop artist began to form. In the eighties alone, groups such as Run D.M.C, Public Enemy, and A Tribe Called Quest were formed; all offered different elements to Hip-Hop. Run D.M.C boasted a rock fusion into their sound, reminding listeners of the foundations of rock music; Public Enemy maintained a stance as a political rap group (undoubtedly inspired from “The Message”) with songs like “Fight the Power,” and “Night of the Living Baseheads;” and A Tribe Called Quest offered a suave take on Hip-Hop with lyrics that were smooth like butter (pun intended) and spread over jazz-infused beats.

There’s clearly an insurmountable amount of rappers and rap groups that emerged in the eighties that all offered their own gift to the genre, but it wasn’t until the 90s that rap became popularized throughout American culture due to the emergence of “gangsta rap,” yet another subgenre of Hip-Hop. This is where most people’s rap dreams lie, resting snugly between 2pac and Biggie, or Jay-Z and Nas. It’s also important to notice that even subgenres could have subgenres—take West Coast gangsta rap, for example, with artists like N.W.A, Snoop Dogg, and the aforementioned 2pac (who is West Coast sonically, but will forever be an East Coast man in my heart). There was then gangsta rap from the South and the Midwest: Master P, Cash Money Records, and Three 6 Mafia all brought their unique sounds to the rap game. Around this time, conscious rap was also emerging with acts like Slum Village (and subsequently one of the best producers to ever walk the Earth, J Dilla), Talib Kweli, Mos Def, and Common. Conscious rap, extremely similar to political rap, boasts a blatant social commentary, but unlike its political sibling, conscious rap delivers its messages in a much less militant way.

What’s so beautiful about Hip-Hop is that all of these genres can intersect: 2pac and Nas, for example, both had one foot in political/conscious rap and one foot in gangsta rap. What’s so wondrous about this genre is the dynamic fluidity of it: Hip-Hop continues to evolve into new forms as the years pass and new subgenres are still manifesting. We have the creation of Trap rap with rappers like Gucci Mane and Future, and Drill (a subgenre of Trap) with rappers like Chief Keef and Lil Bibby. To continuously wish and hope for “the good ole days” of Hip-Hop ignores the intricacy that makes Hip-Hop so beautiful. It also ignores the rappers who are bringing old school elements into their craft. Hip-Hop has always encompassed various forms and subgenres, even since its early beginnings. That being said, we undoubtedly have a place for the Kendrick Lamars and Joey Badasses in our Hip-Hop schema—their sound is unequivocally important for the genre and they represent the importance of lyrical precision and ingenuity—but, can we also find a place somewhere in our Hip-Hop repertoire for the Young Thugs and the 21 Savages?