By Adam Dodson/reporter

In its earliest, purest form, hip-hop was a beacon, an oasis of free expression in a desert of unrelatable empty pomp. Somewhere, it was fashioned into a weapon to be used with deadly accuracy against its own trusting fans. 

The term “gangster rap” is an oxymoron. One cannot be a super-famous rap star and a dope-dealing, “ho”-pimping gangster.

Real gangsters don’t  write poems about their crimes to record and distribute to the public. That’s counterproductive.

That’s not to say there’s no place for people to tell their story if it’s one they actually lived.

But to completely fabricate a persona with no basis in one’s own life, especially one completely destructive in nature that will be emulated by countless gullible kids thinking they can be superstar status if they just follow the blueprint of their rap idol, is reprehensible.

The most glaring illustration of this spectacle today is the former-corrections-officer-turned-current-fake-gangster-rapper William Leonard Roberts, aka “Rick Ross.”

“Every day [he’s] hustlin” more vulnerable youth to forgo an honorable path in life for a losing lotto ticket that doubles as a prison bus transfer.

This pied piper for the prison industry actually stole his fake persona from the real ex-drug dealer “Freeway” Rick Ross, a huge player in the crack epidemic of the ’80s. The real Ross was a pawn in a much larger government drug smuggling operation.

The real Ross served over 20 years for his crimes and has done all he can since his release to warn people about the dangers of that lifestyle.

His new mission has been made more difficult by phonies like Roberts and his corporate backers stealing his name and past to capitalize on his infamy to the detriment of millions.

I’m a lifelong supporter of hip-hop music, but if the current state of the art is indicative of what’s to come, I look forward to its demise and the inevitable, innovative musical phoenix that can rise from the fertile ashes.