Edited by Sam Le and Ivanka Nkwanzi
Cover Photo by Mehek Saini
October 25, 2025, marked the first time since 1990 that there were no rap songs in the Billboard Hot 100’s top forty. This occurrence sparked conversation about the current state of rap, with many pointing to this as evidence of the genre’s fall from grace. Others argue that this moment should be celebrated as it indicates that rap is returning to its underground roots. However, I argue that the issue is far more nuanced than these two extremes. Considering the dysfunctional yet codependent relationship between rappers and mainstream media, rap falling out of favor with the masses is something to be cautiously optimistic about.
First, a bit of background. Rap emerged as an underground genre with radical topics and a non-conformist nature. Pioneering projects heavily criticized and challenged oppressive systems—particularly law enforcement, and raised awareness about African Americans’ struggle for equality. Initially, rap music remained confined to small community gatherings and block parties within predominantly Black neighborhoods, but it quickly gained a larger audience. Amy Coddington’s book “How Hip Hop Became Hit Pop: Radio, Rap, and Race” explains that crossover radio stations seeking to diversify their audiences noticed rap’s potential for broad appeal. These programmers managed to seamlessly weave rap music into their curated collection of songs played on-air. Thus, despite its counterculture nature, rap managed to find its way into the mainstream during the 1990s.
Rap’s entrance into the mainstream presented a plethora of pros and cons. Rappers gained unprecedented opportunities to profit from their talents, with the most prominent artists earning millions of dollars in revenue. This shift in economic status allowed them to enjoy luxuries and even necessities that had long been withheld from many poverty-stricken Black Americans. At the same time, as the number of listeners grew, the genre continuously found itself under scrutiny. Critics characterized rap music and its listeners as threats to social order.
The most damaging manifestation of this was the criminalization of rap music. Prosecuting attorneys began presenting violent lyrics as evidence in criminal court, contributing to wrongful convictions. Over time, rap became heavily associated with criminal activity and was often scapegoated for rising levels of violence in America. Still, mainstream recognition also offered certain protections. Defense attorneys were able to challenge the legality of using lyrics in court and advocate for legislation protecting Black creative expression. These protections may not have emerged had rap remained a lesser-known genre. Therefore, despite the problems caused by mainstream attention, it has, in some ways, become a vital form of protection for artists.
However, this protection has always come at a cost. Rappers are often expected to sacrifice their values and creative interests in exchange for mainstream success. As a result, rap’s reversion to its underground origins presents the opportunity for artists to reclaim their authenticity. For example, rap’s fall from the top forty has coincided with artists increasingly embracing their regional identity. Over the last two years, audiences have observed a rise in projects that suggest a return to regionalism. Kendrick Lamar’s GNX and Tyler, the Creator’s Don’t Tap the Glass heavily incorporate West Coast sounds; Megan Thee Stallion’s Megan: Act II embraces Texan traditions, and Metro Boomin’s mixtape A Futuristic Summa serves as an ode to 2000s Atlanta Hip-Hop. Rather than adhering to a cookie-cutter style, these artists have embraced the unique cultural influences of their environments—even if the tradeoff was a decrease in streams. Rap’s divergence from the mainstream allows for a return to musical styles and topics that center the interests of Black audiences, making it clear why some celebrate its declining popularity among broader listeners.
This leaves one central question: how should rappers navigate this delicate struggle between authenticity and protection? Artists should feel comfortable rejecting the need to conform to what the masses want to hear. Yet, if rap loses mainstream visibility, it opens the door for old stereotypes about rap music to resurface and allows for the policing of Black creative expression to go unchecked. While there is no definitive answer now, this sort of in-between space that rappers will be forced to exist in could foster a lot of discourse and innovation within the industry.
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