Three 65, Day 3
Ice Cube, Death Certificate

Once upon a time, I told my mother I was listening to Ice Cube. She made a disgusted face and said, "You know, he doesn't like Jews." I responded (rather flippantly), "That's okay, I don't like black people." Which isn't really true; I like to think of myself as enlightened enough that I don't suffer from the ingrained aspect of the human condition that causes racism. But - and this is true - I'm sure Ice Cube could appreciate the sense of confrontation that I brought to the table.

That's what Ice Cube is all about, really: confrontation. Although many people know him now as a consummate family entertainer, once upon a time, Cube was a full-on thug. And growing up in South Central Los Angeles, he definitely knew firsthand what he rapping about: guns, drugs, poverty, and hos.

Death Certificate remains his shining masterpiece (people will differ me on this point, probably pointing their own guns at The Predator, which is a good album, but a little too mainstream for me). Divided into "Death" and "Life" sides, the album starts with a funeral, and concludes the first half of the album (the "Death" side) with the protagonist dying of a cop-inflicted gunshot. Along the way, we cover the full melange of Cube topics: thuggery ("My Summer Vacation"), sex ("Givin' Up The Nappy Dug Out" and "Look Who's Burnin'"), and death (uh, "Death"). The best song on this side, "A Bird In The Hand," is about being poor and black in early-90s America. Check the lyrics:

Always knew that I would rock G's
But welcome to McDonald's
Make I take your order please
Gotta serve you food that might give you cancer
But my son doesn't take no for an answer
Now I gotta pay taxes
That you never give me back
What about diapers, bottles, and Similac?
Do I have to sell me a whole lot of crack
For decent shelter, and clothes on my back?
Or should I just wait for help from Bush?
Or Jesse Jackson, and Operation Push?
If you ask me the whole thing needs a douche
A Massengil what-the-hell cracker-sell on the neighborhood...

In this context, Cube actually humanizes the thug lifestyle - as the only way out of a trap constructed by white America. Cube walked the walk and talked the talk, which is more than I can say of today's bullshit gangsters.

Moving on, the "Life" side (which isn't too different from the "Death" side, and probably should have been called the "Racist" side) calls to tasks Asians on "Black Korea" for being suspicious of black people in their stores, and puts his old "Jew" manager on the carpet during the closing track, "No Vaseline." Whatever. The beats are solid So-Cal bounce, produced a few years before Dr. Dre puked that sound all over the hip-hop map, and the lyrics are often insightful. Confrontational? Shit yeah, but the man had something to say.

Ice Cube would go on to become a caricature of himself with movies like Are We There Yet? and albums that glorified an empty ghetto lifestyle that didn't have 10% of the meaningfulness that Death Certificate had. But in 1991, he wasn't just the best former member of N.W.A. out there on the streets; he was the best West Coast rapper, period.