LYRICS ON THE STANDS: HOW COURTS ARE JUDGING RAP MUSIC

by AYA HAMZA EDITOR-IN-CHIEF

Storytelling

has compelled the American public to adopt rap music as its favorite genre. Last year, rap topped the charts, constituting 26.8% of the national listening volume. Rappers operate with a frankness that resonates with their audience and establishes trust. Many fans relate to the struggles delineated in lyrics and may even learn about social ills for the first time through the messages conveyed. Rhymes can often lead to governmental reform, given their popularity. That is if the government allows them to make it out of the studio without fear of penalty.

Rap’s most influential narratives describe the effect of gang violence on community health, spurring those outside of gangs to write about its impact on their upbringing. Unfortunately, the legal system frequently deploys verses spotlighting violent topics against artists. Attorneys presently reserve the power to conflate anecdotal or hyperbolic messaging as bases for indictment. In the past decade alone, at least 500 criminal trials weaponized rap lyrics against their artist. Professors Erik Nielson and Andrea L. Dennis note that this statistic soared past 1990s prosecution numbers when popular media popularized the genre through icons such as 2Pac, Snoop Dogg, and the Notorious BIG.

Among other industry names, Jay concern about how courts may bring their life’s work against them. Banding together, the artists signed a letter urging New York to pass Senate Bill S7527, or “Rap Music on Trial,”: effectively banning raps’ involvement in court. The bill awaits an assembly vote. In California, tangible progress has been achieved with the Decriminalizing Artistic Expression Act’s passage, making the law the first to preserve First Amendment protections in music. While headway is promising, in order to circumvent inconsistencies between states’ verdicts, the onus remains on the federal government to ensure artistic immunity.

Sponsored by US Representative Hank Johnson of Georgia, H.R. 8531, the Restoring Artistic Protection Act of 2022—or RAP Act—would restrict using an artist’s “original or derivative” creative license against them. The RAP Act would cover several mediums including poetry, film, and visual art. Language used throughout the text is reminiscent of the Elonis v.

United States ruling, which relies on a “reasonable person’s” interpretation of content. Congress pigeonholed the bill after referring it to the Subcommittee on Crime, Terrorism, and Homeland Security, and they have taken no action since.

Critics worry about ignoring lyrics that plainly depict an offense, especially when pursuing criminal justice. However, the RAP Act, like the Decriminalized Artistic Expression Act, is limiting, not restricting. According to the text, the RAP Act § 2b (2017) clarifies the importance of underscoring a piece’s relevance when the “defendant intended a literal meaning,” and provides “specific facts of the crime alleged.” The RAP Act is the lead broad legal measure with the potential to reduce arbitrary attempts to draw incriminating conclusions.

Inference, as it stands, has disproportionately impacted the Black community by overly deducing culpability from stories shared in rap. The RAP Act recognizes that although the government’s responsibility is to protect artists’ freedom of speech, lyrics explicitly parallel to a crime must be eligible as context in a judicial setting.

The primary concern is not the introduction of lyrics but with centering arguments around them in the absence of substantive physical proof. Maryland’s Supreme Court clarifies the necessity of adopting of contempt associated with the charge for which he was held in custody, disclosing details down to the 0.40 caliber bullets used. Local advocates inform that Montague has schizophrenia and had just been leaving a drug deal, insisting the rap was the sole piece of alleged evidence used to determine his guilt.

Notorious on the federal level, the Young Slime Life (YSL) RICO trial prosecuting rappers Young Thug and Gunna exemplifies a case directly relevant to racketeer- guilty plea, Steel questions why the genre “birthed by the struggle of the inner city,” is prosecuted to a greater extent than genres like rock-and-roll, which feature similarly violent lyrics. matching evidence in music in the case of Lawrence Montague. A 2019 opinion reveals that the 28-year-old rapped over a jail phone despite his friend warning him about potential repercussions. Montague proceeded to rap out ing allegations and gang affiliation assumptions. While YSL refers to the gang Young Thug heads, his attorney Brian Steel maintains that it stands for Young Stoner Life Records: the record label the rapper founded in 2016. Presenting a not-

Navigating constraint and freedom’s ever-complexing intersection continues to puzzle even the brightest legal minds. Without infringing upon the cultural zeitgeist’s autonomy, the RAP Act’s progression beyond committee is crucial for the safeguarding of rap music, in turn promoting civic awareness among youth, encouraging emotional expression, and fostering a sense of community. Preventing judicial strain on lower levels, placing pressure on congresspeople to move the bill along is imperative as states have no precedent to guide their present decision-making. In the interim, as Gucci Mane mentions in his song “All Dz Chains,” “the [district attorney can] bring up lyrics in the court, may not be even true, and try to pen some s— next to your name that you ain’t even do.” Accusations will continue to accumulate until public servants take accountability and establish sweeping reforms as permanent provisions in federal legislation.