Photo credit: Batiste Safont
Rap and cannabis go together like Snoop and Martha Stewart: unexpectedly perfect, deeply symbiotic, and somehow only getting stronger with age. But hip-hop’s lyrical relationship with cannabis wasn’t always an open book. From the early ’80s, when rappers had to be more discreet than a dealer’s burner phone, to today’s era where selling cannabis legally is a flex, this is a story about freedom, rebellion, and capitalism. Let’s take a trip through hip-hop’s hotboxed history.
Speak in Code: When Hip-Hop Had to Hide its High (1979-1987)
Back when Grandmaster Flash and The Sugarhill Gang were rhyming, hip hop was still too young (and labels too skittish) for blatant cannabis talk. Early references were coded and wrapped in euphemisms—think “cheeba,” “illy,” or “the good herb.” Jimmy Spicer’s 1983 track Money (Dollar Bill Y’all) snuck in one of hip-hop’s earliest recorded cannabis mentions with a sly “cheeba cheeba y’all.” A year later, Whodini casually referenced “smoking that stuff” in the track Friends, tucking the line in like a joint hidden in a sock drawer.
These weren’t celebrations of cannabis culture; they were secret handshakes. A nod to those in the know, while flying under the radar of industry executives and parents’ groups. The cannabis was there, but you had to know where to look.
From Whispers to Wisdom: The Golden Age Elevates the Herb (1988-1992)
As the late ’80s rolled around, artists began to push boundaries. East Coast rappers preferred a more sophisticated approach to cannabis references. When Biz Markie grabbed “a bud” and “took a hit” on 1988’s Pickin’ Boogers, he wasn’t being revolutionary—just a bit bolder than his predecessors.
The culture was shifting. Cannabis wasn’t just something to hide anymore—it was becoming something to philosophize about, to integrate into a broader worldview. But it was still part of a rebel aesthetic, not yet a centerpiece.
Then came Cypress Hill, who changed everything. By 1991, they weren’t just mentioning cannabis; they were celebrating it as a lifestyle. Their influence would explode in the coming years, forever changing how hip-hop approached the herb.
Blunt Force Trauma: When Cannabis Became a Movement (1992-1995)
Cypress Hill’s 1993 album Black Sunday marked a revolution. These weren’t just cannabis users; they were cannabis evangelists. Songs like Hits from the Bong and I Wanna Get High weren’t just stoner anthems; they were manifestos. B-Real and Sen Dog weren’t spitting lines; they were rolling them up and passing them around.
Meanwhile, Redman emerged as another founding father of cannabis culture in hip-hop with his practical How to Roll a Blunt. Before this era, cannabis was just a vice. After Cypress Hill and Redman, it became an identity. The “cannabis rapper” was born—not just an artist who occasionally smoked, but one whose entire persona was wrapped in rolling papers.
The Chronic Chronicles: Dr. Dre Prescribes California’s Finest (1992-1996)
Then came Dr. Dre’s The Chronic in 1992. The album title alone was a revolution—naming a classic rap album after high-grade cannabis? Bold, rebellious, and brilliant branding. Tracks like Nuthin’ But a ‘G’ Thang weren’t just anthems; they were soundtracks to smoke sessions. And let’s not forget about Snoop Dogg, who became hip-hop’s first cannabis messiah—laid-back, smooth, and making it look cooler than ever.
When Snoop drawled about “rollin’ down the street, smokin’ indo,” he wasn’t just painting a picture—he was creating a lifestyle that millions wanted to emulate. The G-Funk era turned cannabis into a status symbol, no longer hidden but flaunted.
By the mid-90s, hip-hop and cannabis were practically synonymous. The smoke was out of the bottle, and there was no putting it back.
Kush & Orange Juice: The Millennium’s High-Class Stoners (2000-2015)
The 2000s saw the rise of new cannabis rap kings like Wiz Khalifa and Curren$y. Wiz’s 2010 mixtape Kush & Orange Juice wasn’t just a title—it was a full-on lifestyle manifesto, turning him into the Bob Marley of modern rap. He followed it up with Rolling Papers, cementing his place as hip-hop’s chillest stoner icon. Meanwhile, Curren$y’s Pilot Talk series crowned him the underground champ, mixing high luxury with high THC.
Cannabis moved from counterculture to pop culture. Snoop’s evolution from gangsta rap to mainstream celebrity took cannabis along for the ride. When Afroman’s Because I Got High earned a Grammy nomination in 2002, it was clear that cannabis humor had gone mainstream.
Yet while rappers glorified cannabis, many still got locked up for it (like Lil Wayne in 2008). The same hip-hop that once had to code its cannabis talk was now actively fighting for legalization and ownership in the industry. The war wasn’t just on drugs anymore—it was on who got to profit from them.
From Microphones to Boardrooms: The Cannabis Business Revolution (2010-2020)
But the real game-changer was Berner, who flipped Cookies from a strain to a billion-dollar business. He wasn’t just rapping about smoking cannabis; he was creating an empire around it. His transition from dealer to entrepreneur marked a new era where hip-hop artists weren’t just cannabis advocates—they were cannabis executives.
Jay-Z’s evolution was equally noteworthy—from subtle references on Reasonable Doubt to becoming chief brand strategist for Caliva in 2019. From hustler to boardroom broker in the same industry that once criminalized his community.
The list of hip-hop cannabis entrepreneurs now reads like a Grammy nomination sheet: Action Bronson, The Game, Xzibit, B-Real, Wu-Tang Clan. Artists weren’t just endorsing products—they were creating empires. What was once a hushed reference had become a whole industry.
Dispensaries and Disillusionment: Post-Legalization’s Hazy Future (2016-Present)
So here we are, in an era where someone you can cop an eighth as easily as a six-pack. Has Mary Jane lost her edge in rap? Is smoking blunts still rebellious when there’s a dispensary on every corner? Today’s artists like Baby Keem and Lil Durk still drop cannabis lines, but it’s with a more casual attitude—just another luxury to be consumed, not a revolutionary act.
But even if cannabis has gone mainstream, hip-hop’s relationship with it is no longer just about getting high—it’s about culture, business, and history. From whispered “cheeba” references to billion-dollar brands, this love story isn’t just a vibe—it’s a whole industry.
The question now is, will rap continue leading the charge in destigmatization and cannabis justice? Or will it become just another market to exploit? As Kendrick Lamar reflected on The Recipe—his 2012 collaboration with Dr. Dre—California’s cannabis culture is more than a backdrop; it’s a lifestyle. “Smokin’ weed with you,” he opens, before praising the West Coast trifecta of “women, weed, and weather.” It’s not just about getting high—it’s about identity, place, and power. One thing’s for sure: this joint’s still burning.
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