Outspoken, confident and now $25,000 richer, Drop is an interesting cat. A southern emcee with northern swagger, he’s almost a throwback to the rhymesayers that dominated the game during rap’s golden era – socially conscious, sick flow and in touch with the culture. Many artists have a difficult time conveying the same emotion they can capture on song in regular conversation, but there were no such problems here. Get down with Drop as he offers some insight on those political gems, what it’s like to lead a movement and who he had to copy in order to stand on his own two. Beast!!
Loud.com: So what’s right, man, what’s your status at the moment?
Man, the status right now is I’m a rapper that’s grinding hard as hell. This is literally what I do to make money. I’m young and I don’t have too many responsibilities other than making crack music and influencing the world with what I say and what I do. I look at things from a larger perspective, like, if you want to be it, you have to live it. With my lyrics and everything, I’m a role model, and at some point when you’re put in front of the camera, on the ringtones, on the web, you gotta do it right. I’m on mixtapes, in the studio, out in the street, like, everything that a rapper does, I’m doin right now to become the greatest. I actually just got fired from a blue-collar the other day because of it.
Loud.com: Word? Ha, I’ll come back to that in a bit. I want to start off with your tracks… from what you just said and the way you rhyme, you sound like a pretty serious cat. The schemes remind me a little bit of Jay-Z… who were you listening to you growing up?
Biggie. The first CD I remember listening to, like that hardcore hip hop, was “Life After Death.” Which is funny, because right after that, I went back to “Ready to Die.” I’m originally from NC, but at five years old, I moved to NY. I’m back in the south now, in Gastonia, The Gas House, holding it down. I hear Soulja Boy and Weezy or whatever, but really my actual influences are closer to home. This cat I know, Bambu, I heard him freestyling and basically said, ‘I want to be like that.’ You said it, though, Jay-Z definitely. Pac, Rakim; real hip hop music. I like lyricists. Nas and everyone of that caliber played into my whole repertoire.
Loud.com: What’s the scene like in North Cak?
I mean it’s country, you know what I’m sayin? Most towns and most countries got the hood and suburbs, but even here the suburbs is hood. It’s one of those towns where you make it big, or do something influential, get into the spotlight, you can look back and say, ‘this is where I came from? Damn’ type-of-thing. I moved back from NY when I was 12, so I’ve spent most of my life here in NC. It’s not that big, to be honest. Gastonia is about 20 miles south of Charlotte, but nowhere near that size. We’re small but we’re still happening, a lot going on down here.
Loud.com: How do you push your music in a smaller environment like that?
I take my music wherever I go, so I might be in Charlotte at the mall. I give CD’s to people I chop it up with. I move and keep it within my circle right now, though, so when it’s time for the world to hear it, I can blast it out with a good base of support from those that are tight with me.
Loud.com: Tell me about the FIF Movement.
FIF Gang, bang, bang! First in Flight, man, that’s what it means. We’re the first to get fly. But listen, I don’t want anyone to get it misconstrued – we’re not Bloods, we’re not Crips, we are a group of people that ride for the same cause – hip hop. We’re a gang of dudes, a group of fellas that rep our city and our state. It’s a movement. There’s no discrimination on colors or anything, it ain’t no hate-based thing. Before red and blue there was black, white, yellow and all that. We’re like a plane and I’m in the cockpit flyin this thing. If you wanna ride with us, buckle up. We’ve got promoters, producers, graphic designers, singers, rappers, dancers; it’s a movement. It encompasses hip hop. You can’t just hop on a track to rap and expect something. It’s not a movement if you’re just rapping. I got cats in my production team working with Dipset right now. Everyone is doing something for themselves that’s big and that contributes to the whole. It’s extra crunk right now.
Loud.com: What was growing up like for you?
I felt misunderstood. The dream that I had, no one else saw it like I did. I’m 20 right now, and you know, things that most people my age go through, that’s what I’ve seen. We’re urban youth, and in that, you’re around drugs, violence… your environment makes you. But I also had a spiritual background, so I know God provides for me. I know as long as I keep that first, I’m good.
Loud.com: What kind of effect did being misunderstood in your childhood have on your rhymes as a man?
Everything affects my music. I rap from my own experiences and the experiences of those closest to me. Being a part of their lives, I feel their pain, hurt and struggle. The song, “Never Had My Daddy,” I did it on a Tupac beat. I made the song for my niece. Her father is not in her life. She’s eight years old, and she goes through things I haven’t. I make music for her and she can listen to it and feel unstoppable.
Personally, I had my father in my life. But the inspiration to do songs like that is all around me. I make music to encourage people not to give up. That’s the core of my music, to uplift my people. Everybody is my people, the whole world. That’s why I speak on the Jena 6 issue that went down. I wasn’t necessarily in that situation, but it affected the world, so I need to speak on it and let them know how it affected me. That was in Louisiana, but you can see its effect in Gastonia, North Carolina, feel me?
Loud.com: Yeah, man, definitely. That said, you do reference a lot of socio-political issues in your raps, sometimes as one-liners, sometimes as whole verses… Where did the desire to do that come from?
My mother watches a lot of news, a lot of CNN, you know. I was always in the living room as a kid, and now, it’s like I try and hear at least one thing on current events. I want to impact someone or some thing across the country, you know? The interest came from years of watching the news, I guess. I was very big on learning about civil rights back in the day, as well. From elementary grades up through high school, I was doing something on MLK, Africa, all that, every year for projects. I can’t let people know about my culture if I don’t know about it first.
Loud.com: What did you take out of doing those kinds of projects?
I took strength from it. Fearlessness. I took the ability to have that constant shout for more and the need for betterment. I began to understand that it’s not all about money. I think a lot of people treat life like a game, and either you get it or you don’t. I took peace from it. Equality. And really, I took lyricism from it, too. A lot of people used poetry, like the Harlem Renaissance days, that was a constant source of energy for those people. There’s something about substantial music that gives you hope for a better tomorrow.
Loud.com: Do you worry about coming off as too preachy?
No. If they don’t want to listen, they don’t have to. The ones that hear it are the ones that need to. When I write my rhymes, I don’t think what anyone else says about my quote comment, nahmean? I feel like what I say is going to change the world, period. If it comes across that way, those are the people that DON’T need to hear it. Hopefully, one day, it will get to that point for me. I make music for every situation, though, so to be honest, it couldn’t come off too preachy. I got music for thugs, clubs, socially conscious people, strugglers, hustlers, rich people, middle-class. I’ma catch everybody’s attention with what I drop.
Loud.com: How are you able to connect with certain situations and speak on them if you’ve never been through them, though?
I gravitate to what they are dealing with, internally. I wouldn’t hop on a track and talk about something I have no connection with. If I’m wise in a matter or it presses on my heart enough, I will write about it. I love the first amendment and the constitution, so I don’t feel like we were given that right to speak unless we could express it for a reason, feel me?
Loud.com: Nah, man, definitely, that’s a beautiful statement. So you’re clearly an intelligent cat. You mentioned earlier a job that you just lost. How did that happen and what’s your main hustle right now?
I was working a blue-collar job and got fired the day before I got the call from Loud.com. It was like, ‘Here we go again, I’ma have to get another job and make that major move’ bullshit, you know? But with this win, now I’ve got a little time. The reality was, I got fired for bein crunk. I felt like I had to put one more track up and I called out of work, so they terminated me for that. But it worked out, as you can see. I messed around and won, so it’s all good. I’m ecstatic right now.
Loud.com: So what’s on the agenda now, then?
I have a business plan that I hope to put into motion from this advance. It’s going to help me put food on the table for my family. I mean, it’s a pretty good flip, the Loud.com money. If you think about it, there are scholarships for a lot of things, but nothing for rap. They’ve never had that. I almost see this Loud.com money as a scholarship for me. I’m about to go to recording engineering school in Hollywood, CA, at a school called LARS (Los Angeles Recording School). It’s gonna be big. I’ma go over there and do what I’m doin here, musically. It’s going to be a huge move for me. I want to be able to run my own sessions and that’s gonna keep money coming in, engineering people’s records, regardless of my own music-making status.
Loud.com: Word up. That’s how a lot of cats get by. Now, was there ever one song or one moment that you can remember that really made you fall hard for hip hop?
Oh, man. I don’t think it was any single record or anything. Probably more so the events of hip hop as a whole. I saw people that came from nothing and were able to take the God-given talent they had to make something. It seemed like everyone was happy. I’d say when I was about 11 up to when I was 17... we’re talking like ‘88 to ’04… that was like the best time of my life. That was the BOOM of hip hop. I saw the ones that made something out of nothing live on, and some of those artists got killed. But even then, those that are living still have music we listen to, and even some of the ones that passed on do, too! You see, for me, I was born into this culture. Some people are born to listen to country, it’s just the way it is. I came up listening to soul, to disco, to oldies, to Marvin and Teddy, you know what I’m sayin? Grand Master Flash, The Message, it just got CRUNK! The events of my life and hip hop made me want to keep it going. I see it as my responsibility.
Loud.com: At what point did you realize you might be talented enough to pursue rap as a career, and what did the people around you say when you told them?
It’s weird. I found out I had the ability when I did my 8th grade talent show. I did a Big Pun song, “I Came Up” featuring Noreaga. Man, Pun was spittin on that!! I listened to it and learned it. I had a friend that looked like Pun and I did Nore’s verse and part of Pun’s shit. Like, we went back and forth, you know? After we did it, the response from it was almost like I wrote it. So I was like, damn, this must be the status that Pun had, like when he was still alive, Rest in Peace. But I felt like for whatever reason, I had a story to tell and that time right there was so crunk, I felt it was necessary for me to move forward with it. He died shortly thereafter, and he had a huge influence on me because of his passing. I was like I gotta keep that kind of feeling going. Seeds were just planted inside of me, and they grew into big trees.
Loud.com: Have you encountered any obstacles, personally or professionally, that have helped you grow in the process?
Yeah there are obstacles everywhere, man. The main one is negativity. I’ve been blocking out the negativity for years. People saying, ‘You can’t make it, you can’t do it, nobody makes it out of this town’ type-of-shit. That’s the first obstacle, you can’t, you can’t, you can’t. So I have to tell myself I can, I can, I can. And then tell it to myself again. Not having the advance money, I mean my folks are doing what they do to get theirs, but you’re talking about an industry with a 3% success rate. That advance money will help me over a huge hurdle. My parents were looking at me like I was crazy when I asked them for money to do my mixtape. And now that the money is there, I have new negativity to deal with. But any hurdle I see now is just an excuse from me and nothing more, follow?
Loud.com: Yup, mos def. That’s a good way to look at it. It shows focus. Coming away with a semi-final spot, it often depends on not only talent, but also hustle. What would you like to see more of from the Loud.com community?
I’d like to see more community instead of competition. You see the advertisement on the homepage and everyone just wants money. They forget it’s a HIP HOP COMMUNITY. Now everyone is cuttin each other’s throat, it’s no different than dealers on the block. It just gets crunk. Like, if people put more ahead of the competition, there’s nothing that says you can’t network without a win and still blow up!! There are 40,000 people on that fucking site!! You get money and all that, but it doesn’t mean anything! I won a round the first time and didn’t get selected, but it happened this time partly because I kept up with the community. It’s a huge movement itself and the possibilities of the community are endless. Some folks just have to get past themselves.
Loud.com: What are your thoughts on emcees becoming credible via an online competition. Is it an accurate representation for the culture? It did originate in the streets…
I think it’s definitely credible now. I put it like this: over time, the streets have gotten crazy. Like the stories you hear in songs and the stories you hear about artists getting signed on the street… it’s almost like it’s… not old, but that, people are looking for something NEW, you feel me? You can go online and it’s perfect, like, you can find a new voice online. If you take your experiences and bring them to the web, how is that any different than an open mic? As long as you got a mic plugged in, you can take your experiences from the streets WHEREVER YOU GO. I think you’ll definitely see some big names come out of Loud.com, word up.
Loud.com: That’s definitely the idea. So before I wrap this up, any mixtapes and albums people should be aware of?
“Plead The FIF Vol. 1” is an older mixtape we got, it’s 15 tracks. We put that out around the time all the “stop snitchin” stuff was going on. But it’s more like a, get-with-the-movement-right-now joint.
And “Plead The FIF Vol. 2” is gonna be a monster, man, like, it’s gonna be legendary. I’m gonna try and take this opportunity and do projects with big name people. I feel like, if everyone wants to see hip hop change, they should be ready, willing and able to do a track with me. I want this to be a mixtape to remember.
When it comes to albums, you know, I’ma just feed off the last whatever it is that I did. It will simply be a sign of the times. Like on some, ‘Oh, yeah, I remember that’ shit. No particular dates yet, but just be ready for it. I wanted to drop Vol. 2 in December, but if I don’t feel it’s legendary enough, I’m not going to do it.
Loud.com: I’m impressed, Drop, you’ve had some interesting things to say. Anything else we didn’t cover that you’d like to address? The floor is yours.
I want people to understand that I’m a humble person, and that my morals are straight. I’m outspoken, but I put God first in everything I do. I’m very thankful that I won, and would like to thank Steve and Joe and everyone at Loud.com and SRC for choosing me. That said, it doesn’t stop here. I don’t feel like I’m on top of the world now, I don’t think I’ve reached my pinnacle. I want people to know that I’ma stay on the grind. I know that it’s an elevation and a process, and I’m going to progress as that process unfolds. I’m not going to let no body down.
