Reasonable Doubt 25: Transcendent lyrics that helped power my creativity and push me forward through times of grief
Photo by Johnathan Mannion
I was just three years old when Jay- Z released his debut album Reasonable Doubt in June 1996, so that didn’t resonate with me as a kid. My earliest memories of Hov come from sitting in the backseat of my dad’s blue Kia in 2000 around the time Vol. 3 The Life and Times of S. Carter was released. Big Pimpin was my jam, just like everyone else. I was indoctrinated into Jay-Z fandom with smashes like Hard Knock Life (Ghetto Anthem), Money Ain’t a Thang, Izzo (H.O.V.A.), and Girls, Girls, Girls.
To be honest, back then, it was more about Lil Bow Wow for me than Jay. I had a gold Mickey Mouse chain and rocked airbrush t-shirts while Harlem shaking at The Scream Tour.
By the time I got to middle school, Jay-Z had retired and returned, so my fandom resonated more with Kingdom Come and American Gangster. Although I had heard tracks like Can’t Knock the Hustle or Dead Presidents II, I was so far removed from Reasonable Doubt Jigga that it was an afterthought.
As I grew older, my curiosity to explore music in a broader scope of genres and eras my fandom of Jay-Z went from casual to super-fan. By the time Blueprint, 3 was released in 2009, I was 16 with Money in my pocket and more access to music than I was ever privy to. Back then, the iPod touch was hot. I think I had the third generation. That was also the beginning of streaming music, y’all remember Rhapsody? The streaming service had a commercial around that time where Jay-Z re-did all his album cover to date, coinciding with the release of BP3.
I subscribed to the app with the Money I was making as a cashier at Target. At the time, my friend Eric and I would go back and forth about the greatest Hov album. For me, it was Blueprint. I remember my cousin Devon having a burnt copy of that on its release date in 2001. It was fire to me, track for track unquestionable heat. Eric always said Reasonable Doubt, and while I’d heard the singles on it, I had never listened to the entire album. So the first thing I played on Rhapsody was Reasonable Doubt. The heartbeat-like thumping started playing as Pain in Da Ass starts talking.
“Big man! You wanna make some big bucks, huh? Let’s see how tough you are you know something about cocaine? Digame!” — Pain in Da Ass intro on Can’t Knock the Hustle
That was the start of a lyrical frenzy that took me on a 14-track awakening.
I’m from Norfolk, Virginia. I know about urban cities and black culture. I didn’t grow up in a whitewashed environment. However, Norfolk is suburban. I never experienced anything close to growing up in Brooklyn, nor did I grow up in the projects. I wasn’t paying my mom’s rent at 15, and I definitely was quieting my siblings’ stomach rumblings. But those bars resonated like nothing ever before. I felt that shit. It took me on a journey of self-discovery and enlightenment. It made me want to create.
Reasonable Doubt was 26 years of living rapped over 55 minutes and 32 seconds. The perils of living on the edge, drug dealing, near-death experiences, run-ins with cops, partying with women, and drinking the best champagne money can buy. Self-doubt comes from trying to live a straight and narrow life, but that fast Money and lavish lifestyle are enticing. He also opens up about the regrets he has from living a street life. It was a self-exploration timeline of living without the keys to life, chasing a dream and resetting, and not taking no for an answer.
That shit was raw. Many of the literal events I couldn’t relate to but the context deeper meanings I felt as a 16-year-old trying to find his way. And as each year has passed and I grow and mature, Reasonable Doubt becomes more and more important to me.
Reasonable Doubt is my inspiration. Whenever I need some motivation, I turn it on. For example, when I was writing admissions essays in January 2011, I threw on Politics As Usual.
“You feel my triumph never- feel my pain. I’m lyin’ low in the leathers I am, the best that’s ever came.”- Jay-Z on Politics as Usual
I felt those bars as I propositioned myself to university after university on why they should offer me an admission spot to continue my education.
During my time at Old Dominion University, I spent a lot of time procrastinating and fiddling my thumbs as deadlines approached for essays and projects. One class in particular that I had to write a rather lengthy paper for was my Sports Philosophy in spring 2014.
My topic was the 1990’s documentary Hoop Dreams and the more profound lessons learned from the two subjects of the film and their desire and goal to reach the N.B.A.
I fumbled through my iTunes as I sat on the floor between the two white twin beds in the bedroom I shared with my brother. Two Logitech computer speakers plugged into my 17 inch H.P. laptop as Nas begins to rap, “I’m out for presidents to represent me.” Dead Presidents is my jam, and I can’t relate to three-fourths of the lyrics. But, of course, nobody from another side is out to kill me, I don’t have wads of illegal money from the 1980s to blow on trips to Vegas, and I don’t know anything about slingin’ dope. Still, those lyrics are a vibe, and they get my creativity going.
“Fuck ‘em, they hate a n**** lovin’ his life, in all possible ways. Know the feds is buggin’ my life.” Jay-Z Dead Presidents II
I was 21 and a junior in college. The police were never wiretapping my phone, but that verbal display led me to an A on a paper I was struggling to write, and to this day, it was one of my favorite essays I have ever written.
Reasonable Doubt has also helped me cope.
I had used it as a pick-me-up when I was struggling. When my grandfather passed away in 2011, I went through a rough stretch. I felt guilty because I was in the area the night before he passed and went to the mall instead of seeing him at the hospital. I had already canceled on him the last chance to study for a test.
When I was down and out, I threw on Regrets.
“Once it’s too late, gotta learn to live with regrets. You used to hold me, told me that I was the best, anything in this world I want I could possess.” Jay- Z Regrets
Of course, Hov talks about his lifestyle as a drug dealer, the consequences of living that life, and how you’re feeding an addiction while cultivating your own. Although the complexities of the regrets differ, I resonate with the words. My granddaddy used to tell me all the time he couldn’t wait to see me on tv covering sports, so that bridge in the song reverberates in my head as I think about my grandfather.
Reasonable Doubt turns 25 this week. A quarter of a century is quite enough time to gauge whether the album has aged well or not. It was the best-received album when it was initially released. In fact, Jay-Z rapped years later on Hard Knock Life (Ghetto Anthem).
“I gave you prophecy on my first joint, and y’all lamed out. Didn’t really appreciate it, ‘til the second one came out.- Jay-Z Hard Knock Life (Ghetto Anthem)
It took nearly six years for the album to achieve platinum status in early 2002. It peaked at 23 on the Billboard 200 chart. But its legacy grows as time continues to pass. Two and a half decades later, it’s an album that is a classic landmark bridge from the abrasive gangster rap of the early 90’s to that grandiose, mafioso, lavish lifestyle rap that Hov helped usher in.
It took over a decade after its release for me to dive into that album, but I’ve listened to it so much on a year-to-year basis that my Apple Music end of the year playlists always feature a song or five from the album. It just depends on what I was really feeling that year.
I can’t relate to all the literal subject matter on Reasonable Doubt, but I can tell the subtext and the journey Jay-Z takes you on. So salute to Reasonable Doubt 25 years later, an introspective expedition on the life and times of a hustler from Brooklyn, New York, Shawn Carter.
