60 Songs That Explain the '90s - Juvenile—“Back That Azz Up”

Episode Date: May 26, 2021

Rob explores New Orleans rapper Juvenile’s bounce anthem “Back That Azz Up.” He discusses how Juvenile’s unique voice complements the bounce genre and delves into the origins of Cash Money Records. This episode was originally produced as a Music and Talk show available exclusively on Spotify. Find the full song on Spotify or wherever you get your music. Host: Rob Harvilla Guests: Micah Peters and Justin Charity Producers: Isaac Lee and Justin Sayles Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Listen, we all have our own personal favorite moments from Tom Steyer's failed 2020 Democratic presidential primary campaign. A campaign rich with meaning and incident. Tom Steyer, of course, needs no introduction. I'm just kidding. Billionaire, progressive environmentalist, launched a $10 million ad blitz to get Trump impeached. Maybe you caught one of those ads during Wheel of Fortune. He spent more money trying to win the race than anybody not named Mike Bloomberg, but pulled at just 2%. That guy.

Tom Steyer. You know for most of the past 30 years when you'd be watching the Grammys and they'd say, and now a speech from the Recording Academy president, it's not that Tom Steyer necessarily looks like that guy looks, but he makes you feel like that speech feels. Anyways, he didn't win. If you're counting by ultimate candidate dropout order, Tom Steyer was the number eight stunna,

but we'll always have our memories and each of us, our own different personal favorite. I'm just kidding. We've all got the same favorite Tom Steyer moment. It was the night before the South Carolina Prime. Mary at a rally held at the historically black Allen University when he brought out juvenile to do back that as up. I gave it some thought. I will not subject you to the audio from this event, nor will I subject you to much visual description of this event.

As a rhythm-deficient white man of a certain age, I shouldn't throw stones. Though if I were to throw stones, Tom Steyer would simply bat those stones away with his jovialy convulsing, rolled-up-sleeved Frankenstein ass arms. You can imagine what this scene looked like. You can decide which absurdist sketch comedy show this scene most closely resembled. It's, I think you should leave. I should clarify in any event that Juvenile swore quite a bit, but still

nominally performed the radio edits of Back That As Up, which is canonically titled Back That Thang Up. I'm no political genius, but I will say that Tom Steyer definitely would have won South Carolina if he'd let Juvenile do the full dirty version.

Girls, you're going to go. But no, Tom went with the edit to some token degree and consequently finished third in South Carolina and dropped out of the race entirely within 24 hours. You can't half as something like this. It is vexing to me truly how much clunkier thang sounds than as in this construction. They're both one-syllable words. How much worse can it be substantially worse? It turns out there's clearly some sort of existential dopamine blocker.

inherent to the word thang here. The way I will concede that use a big, fine woman is a very pleasing phonetic phrase coming out of juvenile's mouth. But what isn't? My name is Rob Barvilla. This is 60 songs that explain the 90s. The song this time is Back That As Up,

except no substitutes. The strip club national anthem. The awkward moment at your cousin's wedding National Anthem. The got a attention at my junior high after school dance national anthem. The ma'am I'm going to have to ask you to leave, National Anthem. The Cultural Appropriation National Anthem. Got to say I respect the sheer,

shameless audacity of Tom Steyer on stage at a South Carolina HBCU, recreating that scene in the video for Dr. Dre's Keep Their Heads Ringin where all the lame white air traffic controllers are dancing lamely in the airport control tower and pandering harder with a single song choice than any American politician has ever pandered. If you're going to pander, pander with the best. Pander while one of the best rappers in New Orleans history, throws his arm around you while rapping the line, I be slang and wood, yeah, out the hood, yeah. Can I talk about the juvenile song, Ha, first, though, do you mind? Real quick, we got to go back to 1986.

Okay, in 1986, Tom Steyer founded the Farrell and Capital Investment firm in San Francisco. I'm just kidding. In 1986, the showboys, a young rap duo from Hollis Queens put out a gritty six-minute-long gangster rap epic called Drag Rap. Ingredients included the da-da-da-da-dha theme song to the Copsho Dragnet. Add campaigns for Wendy's Old Spiced Deodorant and Irish Spring Soap, a little beatboxing and a xylophone riff that would inadvertently help kickstart a vibrant regional rap scene 1300 miles away. If you know drag rap, you likely know it for one specific sound. And most likely you know the whole song by another name. It's better known now as Trigger Man.

Don't do it, Nardo. Drag rap. Not a huge hit in Queens, but a foundationally huge hit in New Orleans. Here's what you do. You take that do-dood-do-do-do-do-dilophone riff. Next, you take Brown Beats, a 1987 track by a San Francisco DJ named Cameron Paul. This guy's 2,200 miles from New Orleans. It's a 33-hour drive, non-stop, assuming traffic.

Ain't too bad, terrible assumption. But it goes a lot faster if you listen to this loop the whole time. Take these two songs, just to take. touch under 3,000 miles away from each other. And you have, inexplicably, gloriously, the foundation for New Orleans bounce music. The xylophone riff and the Trigger Man beat. The showboys call that part the Bones. But in New Orleans, they call it the bells. And there were the bells in 1991 on T.T. Tucker and DJ Irves, where they at? Part sex rap, part shout out to a risible local politician who really needed no introduction.

In 1992, DJ Jimmy put out a cover version of sorts called Where They At, an upgrade to the original, theoretically. DJ Jimmy on the album cover here looks just about as cool as a grown man has ever looked wearing shorts. Next time that tiresome grown men shouldn't wear shorts argument breaks out on the internet. Pull that one up. And in the meantime, Shake that ass like a soul shigger. Around this time, DJ Jimmy also hooked up with a brash, teenage, rapper named Terrius Gray, soon known to the world as juvenile. He was raised in New Orleans

Magnolia Projects. He was four years old when his biological father walked out on his family. He was 10 years old when he started rapping. He first enjoyed sizable regional fame as a teenager with the early 90s DJ Jimmy Track bounce for the juvenile. Such a malevolent but mellifluous voice juvenile had from the start even as an extra brash underage shit talker. Do what this kid says, but watch yourself. What a burgundy's at. What a virgin's at. All of y'all put your hands in the air.

Because it turns out that this particular request is a trap. Tricks. Stop telling that lie. We didn't hit you from a back for his skitties motherfiths. You got to appreciate the specificity of the Popeye's order in this particular insult and the charisma with which the Popeye's order slash insult is delivered. It turns out that the single most important word juvenile raps on that song is you. and you got a three-piece white,

et cetera, but we'll get back to that. One of my favorite aspects of New Orleans bounce music overall is the preponderance of answer records. Many of these supplied by even brashier female rappers who wouldn't stand for all these fried chicken for sex boasts. The best of these to my mind being Mia X's

1993 Broadside to Payback, which itemizes and then vaporizes many of these boasts, culminating in quite possibly the single hardest line I have ever heard in a rap song in my whole life. I'm pushing eight pound babies

to you're talking shit. Do a reboot of the movie 8 Mile set in New Orleans. Mia X is from the seventh ward projects called 7th Ward. And end the movie at the climactic rap battle with Mia X rapping, I'm pushing 8 pound baby so you talking shit. And instantly the dude she's battling just blows up. It spontaneously

combusts, whatever, just boosh. And the whole building collapses around her and she strides out of the rubble. in slow motion, perhaps holding an eight-pound baby. Try coming back at her with, you went to private school after that shit. I bring this up just to underscore that. However, uncouth, and let's say unromantic, juvenile,

and his various hotshot rapper buddies are about to get on their various beloved national pop hits, the various pulcratitudinous targets of their uncouth and semi-romantic attention are not going to take any of this lying down or bent over or whatever. These ladies might back their asses up, you but don't you ever turn your back on them. Juvenile got a deal with New York City's Warlock Records and put out his debut album Being Myself in 1994. He sounded like a 19-year-old steeped in bounce music who thought he was irresistible and invincible because that, for the most part,

was what he was. This song is called Betcha $20, parentheses, Bounce to. Bounce to it if you like, but otherwise don't get involved. The best and most prophetic song on this record in terms where juvenile and New Orleans bounce as a whole were headed is called Indeed, shake that ass. Yeah, A-Z-Z, it's a slow jam. It's almost a love song. It's not really a love song.

Malifluous, though. What a malefluous voice this kid already had. You'd do anything he asked, and you knew exactly what he was going to ask. He's a shig-sick-sick-shake-shake-that-ass. He's a charmer. Honest, but keep your guard up. What a virgin's at?

All of y'all put your hands in the air. Not falling for that again. Decent record being myself, but juvenile does not truly become himself, his true self. And New Orleans rap does not truly become a national superstar-type phenomenon until he hooks up with Cash Money Records. Then again, Cash Money Records does not become its true self until it hooks up with him. Cash Money was founded in 1991 by the brothers Brian and Ronald Williams. Roddle known to his friends as Slim, Brian known to his friends as Baby, and later as Birdman.

Birdmanhandhandrub.gif. There is a whole first wave, a first era of Cash Money records in the early 90s, full of stupendously raw and pretty great rappers who made great records that did not rise to awkward presidential campaign appropriation levels of prominence. Will Slim, UNLV, Projects Most Wanted, etc. The first full-length release on Cash Money was a 1992 album called The Sleepwalker by a horror-core type rapper named Kilo-G. A lot of ghetto boys' energy to Kilo-G. After I played the song, Gangsta Die First, I had this guitar riff in my head for like

three hours. Not a complaint. I click back in my mind to the dope game. Getting paid fucking bitches dodging on selling cocaine. My favorite early cash money artist though is Ms. T, who's 1995 album Having Things, includes a four-song run that includes get into it with a bitch, pistol packing bitch and messy bitch here she is in a song called Hit the Road she can buy her own Popeyes thank you very much

Having things Was the only one And do I call that walking bitch And a motherfucker Having things was produced by Byron Otto Thomas A.k.a. Mani Fresh The rapper and DJ

and budding super producer Who by 95 was Cash Money's In-house producer Probably it's more accurate to say that Mani Fresh was Cash Money's true and best self. He was also from the seventh ward. Mia X tells really lovely and idyllic stories about growing up with Manny Fresh in that neighborhood. The streetlights coming on, the smell of ammonia and bleach

from mothers scrubbing their front porches. Anyway, Manny Fresh is one of the best rap producers ever born. New York City and San Francisco played their part in bringing the foundational idea of bounce music to New Orleans. And Manny Fresh took that foundation. He helped uncover the entire universe contained just within Trigger Man and Brown Beats. It was instrumental in sending New Orleans bounce music back out to invade the whole rest of the world. He made drum machines sound like miniature second-line parades. He made live instrumentation, real drums, real keyboards sound truly live.

He made New Orleans swagger palpable. He made New Orleans sweat palpable. You can smell the sweat. You can smell the bleach. You can feel the electricity that turns those streetlights on. He also made teenage rap, who often had never set foot in a real studio before sound like seasoned pros, not season pros, actually. That sounds boring. That sounds restrained. He made teenagers sound immortal and colossal and indomitably

themselves. He likes to tell the story, Baby had been raving about this little girl out here, and she's wrecking block party. So, man, he brings this girl into the studio, her first time in a real studio, and she brings maybe a dozen girls along with her to cheer her on, and the rapper known as Magnolia Shorty bangs out the song Monkey on the Dick in Warrantney. one take. The unrestrained energy of 13, 14, 15 teenage girls is also palpable here, which only makes a delightfully filthy song more delightful and also filthier. Mani Fresh says he first met Juvenile at a bus stop. He says juvenile rapped song after song after song. He says it was mind-blowing. He says juvenile said, whatever you want me to rap about,

I'll rap about it. For me, Dynasty era Cash Money Records begins with Juvenile's second album, Soldier Rags in 1997. The Dynasty era begins with the song Soldier Rag. It begins with Juvenile discovering the awesome power of just the word you. Can you have a dope? Here is Juvenile's voice as even a Tom Steyer voter knows it. The Immaculate grit, the sinister mumbling, the way Manny's beat is writing him and not the other way around. But what I love about juvenile is when juvenile wraps in the second person, when he addresses you directly, interrogates you, celebrates you, challenges you, denigrates you. No writer in history in any medium has juvenile's unsettling facility with the second person. Bob Dylan's ballad

of a thin man, that super emo 80s cocaine novel Bright Lights Big City, whatever your personal favorite your own adventure book is it's deadwood city forget it juvenile owns the second person juvenile has taken an intense personal interest in you he's got a few questions for you you knocking them heads off to you do what a player do you fucking a roach and boo you're scared to blast when you got that iron what you do you puffed ass you got the skim ass and on the third verse of soldier ag he casually reels off a few lines so hypnotic that a year or so later There'll be the chorus of one of juveniles and Cash Money's breakout national hits. So this is 1997, big year for this guy and this guy's record label and this guy's city.

Cash Money Records is about to blow up. The first record from the big timers, the duo of Baby and Manny Fresh, both fine rappers in their own right, comes out in 97. It's called How You Love That. The first Hot Boys record featuring the quartet of Juvenile, BG, Turk, and an extra young phenom named Lil Wayne comes out in 97. It's called Get It How You Live. This tease things up nicely for 1998, which is the single biggest year in New Orleans rap history, buoyed by the two biggest record labels in New Orleans history. Cash Money and Master Pease No Limit Records. I've talked at great length in this venue about Master Peas, make them say uh and the greatness of no limits roster overall including mea x i have talked at great length

about the cartoonish absurdity of no limits output in 1998 alone 23 albums 16 of which going gold or platinum this will prove to be no limits peak this would be anybody's peak but cash money's assent is just beginning in 1998 that's the year cash money signs its famous 30 million dollar deal with universal records and that's the year juvenile puts out his third album 400 degrees, which will sell 4 million copies in the United States, even counting Drake, it might still be the best-selling cash money album ever. Back That As Up is on this record, yes, but for me it starts with Ha. It starts with a red-hot soldier-rag verse that is now, a year later, a white-hot chorus. Ha is the job interview you have to ace before you even get to listen to Back That As-Up. I get your natural impulse to count how. many times juvenile says ha in the song ha he says ha 823 times but the most important word in the song ha is you that's you that bad ass bin is that's you that can't keep old ed because you keep fucking

a friend juvenile's got a four inch thick file on you pal he's got x-ray vision he knows where your bodies are buried he's got some advice on how you might avoid getting buried right alongside him looking at them little bros, huh? You don't know when they quit, huh? That's you with that shock and shit, huh? That's you with that bawling shit, huh? That's you, that's you, that's you. Ha is the only TED Talk slash pep talk slash trash talk

slash cautionary tale you will ever need as provided by the undisputed master of the second person, which is going to come in real handy when it's time for juvenile to make the New Orleans bounce crossover hit to end all New Orleans bounce crossover hits. First things first. With apologies to saving Private Ryan or Fargo or Ace Venture, a pet detective, or whatever, the best cinematography of the 1990s can be found within the first 10 seconds of the back-that-as-up video. The two dudes with violins, one of whom is in a wheelchair in the middle of the street, these huge trees looming over them,

sunlight poking through the leaves, and the whole scene tinted this stately gunmetal green color of dollar bills that have been thrown at more than a few strip club stages in their time. And then there's juvenile standing in the same spot, emerging from a cloud of smoke, as though he's a force of nature, as though the very atmosphere of his city manifested him. If you've seen this video enough times, you can see this video right now just by hearing this. And then Juvenile starts to talk to you again. You, you, you, some of you, the anatomically fortunate among you. Whatever else back that as a assay. is it is indisputably a New Orleans bounce song, a New Orleans bounce song that cracked the top

20 on the Billboard Hot 100. Juvenile did not anticipate this. Here's how we put it to complex in 2012. Quote, it's the song that I didn't think would make it because it's bounce music. I have been doing bounce music for years and it just went regional. It never went mainstream. I didn't think people in New York and L.A., people that weren't from my area or are used to this kind of music would like it. It just blew up. I was shocked. I always thought, how it's going to be the song to really blow me over, but it was backed that ass up. It was crazy. He shouldn't have been surprised.

Juvenile wraps every last line of this song like it's the chorus, like every last words should be etched onto your family's coat of arms. Totally inappropriate sentiments to etch onto your family's coat of arms, of course, but this is the true magic of back that as up. The ill-advised abandon it inspires and nearly everyone within seconds of hearing it. It is the ultimate party song because it turns any situation, wherever it appears, and whatever is occurring there, among whomsoever happens to be there, into a party, whether this is an appropriate situation for a party or not.

You will never have a better time making terrible decisions. You will never have a better time thinking about terrible decisions you have made in the past or plan to make in the future. Wonderful things are going to happen in the years following back that as-up. Terrible things are going to happen. to the cash money family, to juvenile, to hip hop, to New Orleans, to America. A whole lot of both wonderful and terrible things will happen to Lil Wayne, for example. Mani Fresh also wraps on Back That As Up. Mani Fresh is a fine rapper. He's fine. He made the beat. He can do what he wants.

But here we have Lil Wayne with just the quick flash of the bizarre and almost disconcerting charisma that's going to make him a true superstar rapper himself in a few years. The cover of that first Hot Boys record, Get It How You Live from 1997, it's the easiest way to convey how young these rappers are. Lil Wayne is all of 14 years old on that record. Quite famously, his mom wouldn't let him swear yet. He'd finally get to in 1999 when he was 16 or so.

On his own cash money solo debut, The Block is Hot. That's a great record. BG's Chopper City in the ghetto, that's an even better record. The great rap writer Paul Thompson, he once wrote that his friend texted him just to say, BG sounds like what I think an iguana would sound like. That's perfect.

The Hot Boys' second album, Gorilla Warfare, that's the best album of all those. I need a hot girl as the song you play after Back That As Up Up, if anyone at the party still hasn't made a terrible decision. But the downside to the cash money experience is just as visceral as the upside. Virtually every rapper from this era will leave and or sue cash money over money. Juvenile included, Manny Fresh included. As super famous as he got, Lil Wayne's own endless legal battles with cash money only ended

with a settlement and purportedly his freedom in 2018. That first pre-fame wave of cash money artists mostly didn't get to enjoy the good times at all. Kilo G was shot and killed. Magnolia Shorty was shot and killed. B.G. went to prison. Turk went to prison. Will Wayne went to prison. Juvenile's four-year-old daughter was shot and killed in 2008.

just like with 90% of the stories I tell in this venue, or it feels like that anyway, tragedy and acrimony and disillusion are inevitable if we look far enough into the future, past whatever the peak happens to be. By one measure, juvenile, of course, would peak in 2004 when slow motion was a number one pop hit. But even slow motion, great as it is, still lives in the shadow of Back That As Up. A very strange song that inspires very strange and imprudent behavior. some among the people who made it and a great deal more among anyone who happens to hear it, Tom Steyer included.

There is one actual benefit to the radio edit to back that thang up, which is that it includes Lil Wayne doing this during the fade out. Don't overthink it. Just do what he does. Do whatever he says to do. That's the whole point of this music, after all. Bani Fresh once explained it this way. I would say that Bounce, for the most part, is original hip-hop, the way hip-hop started. There's call and response. There's raw. beats. There's an MC just going for it, wondering, how can I run the crowd? That's the whole purpose

of it. You need the energy, and if you're whack at it, the crowd's going to let you know. If you're good at it, you're going to control the crowd, but the whole purpose of it is response and call. It's the way hip-hop started. There's an MC, a DJ, and the mic. Good luck. They call. You respond. That's bounce music for you. And if they get the call right, no matter how weird or inappropriate it sounds, then you are not legally responsible for your response. Juvenile knows you better than you know yourself. And you, well, you know what to do. My guests today co-host the greatest podcast ever made.

Renaissance men, anime scholars, PlayStation 5 owners, it's Micah Peters and Justin Charity from the ringer's own sound only. Is there anything else I should add to your intro? Well, can we talk about Charity's emaculate hairline? I mean, like, it's such a shame that our listeners won't get to see, like, how clean his hair looks right now, you know? He is a very handsome man, as always. It is, it is wonderful to see your faces, to hear your voices. Thank you very much for being here.

No, we're happy to be here. We're talking to the Godfather of music criticism. Shoot, Rob Harvilla. Let's get it. Let's get it, baby. Let's go. Oh, God. Meeting of the minds.

Yes, yes. Micah, back that ass up is an enduring national. Treasure. But this is a New Orleans song. What does this song mean to Louisiana and only to Louisiana? Like, what about this song can you only understand if you have lived there? Oh, man. So,

back that ass-up was like, you know, technically before my time. But it was also like, you know, back-that-ass-up also exists in perpetuity. It's the song that comes on that separates the VIN from the boys, so to speak, either you can find something to get up on or you can't. Also, like, it's the, like, the, it's the truth. But, like, also, if you're, like, watching the music video,

I think I've, like, written about this before in, like, some sort of wring a retrospective. It's just kind of, like, the sense of place that you get immediately from the first opening strings of the music video. Yes. Like, the crack pavement, the Elysian Park sign. Like, it's just all things that, you know, recall a whole bunch of stuff that, like, I was too young to know about, but

do about anyway. When is that transition from boy to man happen with, when do you get up on something, generally speaking, Micah? I mean, you know, in your, I don't know, your teenage years, yeah, let's just go with that. Okay. How is your appreciation of this song changed? you got older. Like,

what did you love about back that ass up whenever you first heard it? And what do you love about it now? And are those the same things necessarily? Well, the thing is that, like,

the first thing that I truly, like, loved about it, number one was, like, when Bandy Fresh comes in the Stars Rapids, I know you can't stand it,

Steve Bade, like, but also, like, but also Wayne, like, the gangly, like,

stringy, wiry, just coming out version talking about wobbidi, wobbly, wobble, like, it's crazy. He steals the spotlight with, like, not even a full eight bars. With nonsense words. Yeah, it's just nonsense.

You know, forecasting a lot of stuff to come. Absolutely. Charity, what is your relationship with this song? When did you first come to it? Man, come on, man. I mean, I'm not that much older than Micah, but I wouldn't say all the crazy stuff about, oh, it's before my time.

No, it's exactly my time. You know, I'm from Virginia, so I had to say, you know, I let Michael go first, obviously. But here's the thing, right? All that hip hop before or at the turn of the century is it's a bunch of sounds, even though it's a lot of it sort of from New York is sample driven, right? But it's a lot of sounds that you, they just felt like they came from another planet, right? But I think that's true all around. Midwestern, New York, whatever.

But the Southern stuff in particular, man, it's just like, by this point, who's on the radio? It's like Mani Fresh is missing. You know, it's for a... Yeah, it was like a period where, like, Bany Fresh, like, reshaped American popular music like in his image. Like, there's that interview, like, in the, I don't know, maybe it was like a 20-year retrospective, like a complex where he was talking about adding the strings in.

And he was just like, I was trying to capture white America. And he was just like, as soon as, you know, as soon as Sharon Stone started shaking ass in the song, he was just like, I got you all. Got you. I know. I know. I like the idea. It's like, how do you get white people? I know, we put some strings in this.

We'll put some strings in this song about shaking ass. Yes. Here we go. Life hack. No, but it's also, man, I just, I remember the energy of this song in the radio, right? Because it's both, juvenile has this, he has that distinct accent and he has that draw. But it's also that this manny fresh beat, this guy is just spazin. This song is so, the tempo is nuts.

Everything about it is disruptive. Like, even just in the context of a radio playlist, like, going from Living LaVita Loca to this. And look, that's a little shade either. Livinga Lolaoka is brazy, right? But then to back that ass up even, it's just. The energy immaculate. Absolutely. What did Manny Fresh do for popular music beyond, you know,

bring the white folks in with the strings so Sharon Stone would get on it? Like what is it that Manny Fresh brought to hip-hop? What was different after Manny Fresh? I mean, like, it's an entire kind of mode of, like, drums. It was, like, the, like, adding, like, the kind of repulence. of elements of bounce music to rap canon, like, in a way that, like,

translated, like, across regional borders, you know? It's also, I mean, for better or worse, right? It's also the very beginning of white people being introduced to the idea of twerking, right? And I don't just mean that in the literal sense, but in the sense of music

that is conducive to such, right? Like, that's the thing. It's that gangly, just all over the place energy of this song that again, I just don't know that radio had had exactly the energy of a manny fresh beat like

this before this. Well, it was Ha also. Yeah, yeah, yeah. How was like, how was there first? But I mean, also, it was just kind of like, no one really knew what to do with, like, no one really knew what to do with Ha'

because it was just like nothing had ever sounded like that. Yeah. Right. Ha is still my favorite. Like, is there a quality to Juvenile's voice on Ha? Like, whether that's his vocal tone or his accent, like you said, Charity, that no other rapper has. Yeah.

Yeah. Yeah. I mean, you feel both, like, very safe, but also very threatened by it. Like, I just like, I don't know exactly, like, how best to describe it, but it's just like, you got stuck in to know your New Year's Eve, huh? You got stuck in a big year to leave, huh? I think, Michael, I'm going to throw out the rest of my questions, and I just want you to wrap all of these songs in their entirety for us, Acapella. I think that will convey more of your thoughts on the songs than anything you're going to say about them.

Just go, whenever you're ready. You know, if you need us to beatbox or something, I don't recommend that, actually. This is why, to this day, by the way, this, like, Juvie is to this day why I will die on the hill that Kanye has the best verse on Monster. Because the whole, like, juvenile tribute flow on that song is way more impressive. than like Nikki trying to do a KRS1 flow or maybe Rick Ross gets close, but I don't know, man. Oh, Rick Ross has his own like kind of juvenile pastis that works really well. Like, yeah, well, like it came like later.

Like Black Ophia was crazy where he has like the second verse who's just like, his one diggers is your diggers. Yeah. Charity, I'd like to quote something you said to me earlier today. we were talking about juvenile and you said, and I quote, he nasty. Yeah.

Just think about, okay, if you think about it, and this is another thing we're talking about what changed with this record, right? And the climate around it. I think New York hip-hop,

other hip-hop before this moment, you know, you have stuff like Achenelli, right? You have rappers who kind of bring a certain sexual mischief to records, But I just associate back that ass up with sort of like when basically you had Missy, Juvi, mystical DeBrat, Trina.

Like when you have all those people on the radio and critical mass, that to me is when it's like, okay, the South has like a particular messiness to it. And Juvie, I don't know, Back That Asap has that, but it's also Juvenile is complicated. hit it, right? Because isn't he, like, very averse to eating the cat, as it were? I don't know how we want to put it on this podcast. He's full of contradictions in this regard, right? There are multiple references to him not being into reciprocation, as it were. My kids are going to listen to this, guys. Please. I mean, like, I don't think that we could have trapes like more lightly around like that no that was yes i i'm just gonna they're gonna ask me what

eating the cat means and be like ah it's just it's a dance that's it in a way yeah how did all those filthy songs get on the radio at the same time what happened at that moment how does a song as dirty as back that as up become the song that like white people feel comfortable dancing to at weddings is it just that it's undeniable other wise that the filthiness is sort of Trojan horsed into it? Well, yes. I think that that's like the whole thing about like the strings that I was talking about before. Like the undeniableity of back that ass up is why it's like a wedding song at this point.

Yeah. Yeah. And I think like as for the rest of it, it's just kind of like blunt force and like once one's in, like they're all in. Right, right, right. our dear colleague Charles Holmes interviewed juvenile for Owing Stone last year in summer 2020 and he's like hanging out in St. Louis, like building his own furniture during COVID lockdown.

He's in his mid-40s. Seems very wholesome. Like, especially in light of losing DMX recently, is it a relief to see juvenile thriving in his way now? Yeah, man. It's cool to see juvenile doing carpentry. Like, I like, like, the kind of retirement phase like flowering and personality

that's happening across like all these old rappers like styles P is the best person to follow on Twitter what's he doing? I don't I haven't had the pleasure of Salsi He's just doing that

yeah exactly it was just like it started with him just making smoothies he's just like yo juice is fucking tight and then he was like and then he made his own business out like it's just you know and he just tweets

positive stuff and alternately uses Twitter like Google, it's really wonderful. Well, yo, I think about that. I mean, obviously, so Norie Eaga, right? Like, he hosts a podcast now, drink champs that I listen to. But I remember back in the formative stages of Twitter, Nori was like one of the big personalities on Twitter because he was just really funny.

But specifically, Nori constantly tweeted about like getting into running. And like, that's actually how I got. got into running. I was like, damn, nor are you running? Maybe I should get into running. He's an influencer. Yeah, you're right. It's like, there's something about that phase.

I think it's, yeah, you're right. So many rap careers can be depressing because, like, they have these really tragic ends on different levels, right? It could be like people dying at an early age. People just being sort of broke and destitute and being screwed over by labels. And it's always good when you're just like, you see the rappers who are like, I have other interests and aspirations other than just rapping. I'm going to go build furniture or launch a juice empire or something.

I always love that. We love to see it. Is it necessary whether you're from Louisiana or not to take a side, no limit versus cash money? Is it one or the other necessarily? Just be a student of the game, man. Like, don't just be, like, don't pick a faction just because you, like, think that you have to.

They all got to, like, there's joints all over the place. you know. It's a very zen way of looking at. Don't deprive yourself. That's admirable. Quit blocking your blessings. Okay. What is,

what does differentiate in your mind no limit from cash money? Is there, is there, what is the main sonic or personality difference between them to your mind? I think that I would say no limit is like raw and tinier and sounds more like, these niggas like rap like they'd never been anywhere else. Cash money like feels like bigger and more like a transatlantic operation. Global.

Yeah. Right. Even though it's kind of the opposite, right? Even though it's actually like no limit that is the sort of California, but also Louisiana thing. But you're right, it does feel the opposite. No limit feels so much more self-contained and paranoid and kind of chaotic in a way that I'm not saying that cash money wasn't also chaotic, but it felt like more of a control chaos

than the limit. Right. a little less militant, if nothing else. You could invite say militancy. Yeah, like, you know, no limit is like heavy is like heavy metal and like cash money is like, well, everything from heavy metal to mallpunk. There we go. Do the hot boys come up often enough in greatest rap groups of all time conversations? Like guerrilla warfare, that record holds up so well.

Like, are these guys secretly worthy of. that, you know, a tribe called Quest Wu-Tang Clan tier, or is that overstating? Of course they are. But I mean, like, it's like, it's... I think they can go toe to toe with tribe. Wu-Tang, I hold in, like, I do hold in a regard where they

probably win that matchup. Right. Yeah. Maybe against tribe. I mean, yeah. I'm enough of a contrarian to take that. Yeah. I was counting on that, actually. That's, thank you. Is it weird if I say that BG is my favorite member of the hotline.

He's suave in like this sleazyest imaginable way in a way that I find super appealing for some weird reason. Yeah, I mean like one of the few people that could make all gold fronts sort of match for the pinstripe suit. Also like there's

one of you got it is like one of like the best I feel like that didn't make it into like Southern Anthem canon like it should have but that shit is incredible. still. I'm glad they haven't way sort of made up. I think they

made up. I don't know if they're beefing it. Who knows? Who knows? Is there any juvenile song, you know, from that late 90s era that also you think is worthy of the Southern Rap canon and didn't quite make it to the same degree as back that eyes up? Yeah.

Soldier Rags is sort of there, I guess. Soldier Rags set it off Set it off is canon. That's not... Set it off is canon. Like I'm talking about like, oh, in my life.

Mm-hmm. And just be like, all the 400 degrees should be canon. Yes, I think it is. The fact that virtually everyone from juvenile's era has sued cash money or at least left cash money, super acrimoniously, including juvenile and Wayne, of course. Does that change the way you hear a record like 400 degrees, a guerrilla warfare? I love the camaraderie between these guys so much, but does this music hit different

when you know it ends the way that it ends? No, because, like... That's rap, baby. That's right. Yeah, that's just saying, honestly, that's rap music. Every single, like, major partnership of the late 90s, early 2000s,

ends with... Implosion. Yeah, a PD crack, a proverbial peteer. being thrown under the bus, you know. Like, that's wrap.

It would be disappointing if that didn't happen, I guess, at this point, yeah. Well, geez, this has been incredibly

enlightening, guys, and I'm so honest. Oh, absolutely. I am very honored that you come and join us today. Thank you very much,

guys. Thank you. Thank you. Thanks very much to my guests, Micah Peters, and Justin Charity. Thanks to our producer. Justin Sales and Isaac Lee, and thanks to you for listening.

And now, without further ado, here's Juvenile with Back That As Up. We'll see you next week.