The song of the unsung poet: A historical lens for J. Cole’s new album, “Born Sinner” through a case study of the track “Let Nas Down” by Roee Astor

While J. Cole’s new album, “Born Sinner” is impressive at times with focus, intelligence, and skill, “Let Nas Down” is without a doubt the most emotional and exceptional track on the album. Don’t take my word for it…

The song’s epicness immediately jumped out at me and raised my hormone levels to that of a pre-pubescent Justin Bieber fan. Even on the surface level, it is making a big statement, which is more or less the following, and I’m paraphrasing:

 “I let down Nas, one of the greats of Hip Hop, by making a bubblegum radio hit to boost me to fame. While this compromised my artistic depth, I’m not perfect, and I like money, a lot. Sorry for partying.  However, now that I have money and fame I have a bigger audience and more freedom I can get back to the important stuff. Or will I?”

That covers the sparknoted basic plot summary.

But if you just scratch the surface of the song, Cole’s attention to detail speaks louder than his intricate lyrics.  “Let Nas Down” is laden with explicit and subtle allusions to “the idols” of rap from the production’s reminiscence to Jay-Z’s “D.O.A”—a song about bringing Hip Hop away from autotune and back to its roots, to the sampling (in the opening from “Nas be Like”), to the heartfelt versus, and the chorus. This reminds us that J. Cole loves the soul of Hip Hop and that he knows where he stands in the long history of a genre that is rooted in pain and anger towards the status quo.

Everything in this song is there for a reason. Why did his chorus hail 2pac and Nas but not Biggie and Jay-Z? I’ll get into all that, but first you gotta’ understand where he’s coming from, and for that, a little refresher of one of the greatest rap feuds in Hip Hop history, the Jay-Z—Nas feud, is vital.

The Jay-Z—Nas feud of the early 2000’s was extremely high profile, as the two MC’s duked it out for who would be the next King of New York after the murder of Notorious B.I.G. in 1997. Most rap feuds, though entertaining and full of emotion, ultimately are public penis measuring competitions. It’s kind of the point of the whole thing.

The Jay-Z—Nas feud followed suit in the terms of the drama and dick-measuring.

To summarize, Nas somehow finds a way to call Jay-Z a homosexual in at least 6 ways: “H to H.O.M.O”, “Fuck Gay-Z”,  “Cockafella records”, “Dick suckin’ lips”, “Put it together, I rock hoes, yall Rock Fellas” and the less subtle “You a dick riding faggot, you love the attention”. On the flipside, Jay-Z’s “Supa Ugly” talks at great length of his affair with Nas’s baby-mama Carmen Bryan, immortalizing the affair with the line, “Me and the boy A.I. (Allen Iverson) got more in common than ballin’ and rhyming, get it, more in Carmen”.   Word. That sucks for Nas. The whole thing seemed pretty personal and intense but hilarious.

With this name-calling it is easy to forget the better part of the feud (okay fine, I admit I liked the other parts too). Like the part where Jay-Z calls out Nas for not producing many good, high-selling albums consistently after Illmatic, or the part where Nas responds on the brilliant track “Ether”(a subtance that “makes your soul burn slow”) by painting Jay-Z as a sociopath who sold his soul to the devil to sell more albums—mysogynist lyrics, stealing Biggie lines, switching personas, mainstream bubblegum songs, you name it—anything to sell albums.

In this sense, the battle was not about only two egos, but much more of the timeless debate of where rap should go, and what it stands for. Should rap stick to its roots of social commentary as Rhythmically Assisted Poetry (in case any of you forgot what the word “rap” stands for :0!), a poetry of oppression and poverty? Or has rap transcended this original purpose? If so, should rappers capitalize on the mainstream appeal to gain more power that can effect real change?

Clearly accusations were exaggerated. Yet, as the truth was exaggerated, over time the exaggerations become the truth in terms of how the public saw these two titans of the rap game. As a decade passed, with the feud now long over, it seemed that those personas, Jay-Z as a boss-dawg business tycoon (“he got beyonce???”) and Nas as the less flashy prophet of Hip Hop, have settled into both of their highly respected legacies.

I have heard time and time again from friends that ultimately, looking back ten years later, they feel Jay-Z has won this feud.  On paper (get my drift) there’s no question they’re right. HOVA has remained the most consistent in the rap game, has achieved legend status, amassed an inordinate body of wealth, and is the most visible rap legend in the game. Despite this, though I love Jay-Z’s music, I have always kind of rooted for Nas and viewed him as a sort of underdog in this feud, an unsung poet without as much commercial success or power as his rival.

But now he’s not unsung.  Throughout “Born Sinner”, J. Cole confirms that I’m not the only one who feels this way. Jermaine tells us that, as a kid, he had an affinity for the martyrs of the socially conscious legends of Hip Hop, namely 2pac and Nas, and he disapproved at one point of Jay-Z and Biggie, the rap legends whose personas are  that of the Rap Mogul, the hustler New York boss, whose rise from rags to riches combined with skill alone is enough to earn the hearts of his fans. J. Cole even says in the opening track, “Villuminati” that he sided with Pac during the East Coast west Coast hip hop feud: “Rap nerd even copped Rah Digga Digga
Pac had a nigga saying ‘Fuck Jigga, fuck Biggie’ " , though he quickly recovers by noting that he was only eleven. 

But then throughout the album, J. Cole more than once refers to the pressure Jay-Z and the label put on him to produce a radio hit before they would give him an album release date.  In “Let Nas Down” for instance, he says, “Hov askin where’s the record that the radio could play”.  J. Cole ultimately says he gave in to this pressure from Jay-Z and the label, at the expense of disappointing one of his idols, the idol who truly has the authority to call out what’s real and what’s trash.  In essence, Nas has the final authority on realness.

So in this context, the whole song becomes quite interesting.  Here we have J. Cole,  who in his heart is a conscious soul searching rapper from the start (his lesser known rap name is Therapist), who as a kid felt closer to 2pac and Nas, over Biggie and Jay-Z, signed to Jay-Z’s label, but is feeling disappointed in himself for satisfying Jay-Z but not Nas.  What’s happening here? Cole is being pulled in different directions by the two symbolic leaders of rap with stark differences in philosophy. To get more fame and power, the Biggie-Jay-Z route is the one to take. But the conscious 2Pac-Nas route is the, dare I say it, morally superior route? With all the Jesus references Cole sure seems to think so…

Don’t get me wrong, J. Cole has the utmost respect for the man that discovered him. The line in the chorus, “No I.D. my mentor now let the story begin,” is taken from Kanye’s ode to Jay-Z on “Big Brother”.  No disses involved there. In fact, throughout the album, he respects and pays homage to all of the greats, namely Pac, Biggie, Jay, Nas, Kanye, A Tribe Called Quest, and others. 

But when he says “Pac was like Jesus, Nas wrote the Bible” he picked those two purposefully. They are immortalized most of all for their consciousness and pain for the world around them and their ability to express this pain and hope through their art.  

When he says he taped Nas pictures on his wall as a kid, and that he “apologizes to OG’s for sacrificing my art”, he means it. 

When he opens the song with a Nas sample:

“Freedom or jail, clips inserted,

A baby’s bein born the same time a man is murdered,

The beginning and end, as far as rap goes

Its’s only natural, I explain my plateau,

And also what defines my name”—Nas from “Nas Be like”

Nas is saying that in this complex world full of immeasurable evil and injustice, an artist cannot solve all the problems. The only thing he can do is explain what he stands for, and what he believes in. 

And with this song, J Cole is letting us know that his plateau is being pulled in different directions. But 2pac’s and Nas’s plateau—the one that wrote the Bible—is  the one to aspire to. 

J. Cole’s ambiguity on the album and in the song show what is obvious: J. Cole wants to be as successful and powerful as Jay-Z, but as real and conscious as Nas. The ideal would be 2Pac, who unequivocally did both. Thus, he’s Jesus, and Cole is the second coming.

He can’t be Jay-Z and he can’t be Nas. And he won’t be remembered as either if he tries to be both. He can only do J. Cole.

But at the very least, all the dick-measuring aside, it’s nice to know that he’s thinking about it. And as far as I’m concerned, the unsung hero is now sung.  

So, in terms of legacy, has Nas really lost this feud?

That’s up to you. But one thing’s for sure: If the best rappers take the Nas route, and he’s not let down again, then in ten years the lines may not be as clear.