Sticking to Plan

By Corey Bloom | Photo by Carlos Ramirez

Back in ’96, before the Internet had dropped its nuts and become the know-it-all asshole it is today, the only way to cop dope underground hip-hop was to hit the streets. Every week, like fiends, I’d roll with the older homie 2Big and crew in his ‘84 Eldorado to Telegraph Ave. in Berkley, CA, where on any given day, Murs and the rest of the living legends would be posted up with a tattered box packed with cassettes. The covers might have been cut crooked with hand-scribed labels, but you never second guessed copping from Murs, knowing he had the cavi four-track tapes. It was only a matter of time before the west’s best kept was no longer a secret, and 10 years later it’s safe to say the Los Angeles native has gone federal.

Murs’ undisputable reputation as a rapper has led to other ventures, from film, to hosting for Al Gore’s Current television channel, to CEO of Women Records with partner in rhyme Slug and A&R for the LA-based (and his current label) Record Collection. Amidst it all, he found time to reconvene with 9th Wonder to follow up 2005’s heralded 3:16 The 9th Edition with Murray’s Revenge. If you’re familiar with Murs and 9th, you don’t need me to tell you that they make classic music, and if you weren’t, now you know.

When you hooked up with 9th Wonder and did 3:16 The 9th Edition, was it always in the plan to keep putting out albums together?
Nah, The 9th Edition seemed to really strike a chord with people. It got more props from the fans and critical acclaim than any other album I’ve done before, and 9th got more love than he did with any other project, so I felt like maybe we made the right connection.
Instead of me going off and messing it up, I’d rather keep the same formula. Really, it’s because it’s what I felt the fans wanted more than anything.

So this is going to be something fans can look forward to throughout the years?
We’ll always do music together until we’re not friends anymore. The way we make music isn’t really a friendly process anyway, so even when we cease to be friends, I think we’ll still make music together. I don’t think he’s going to do the next album, but he’ll do the one after that. I don’t want to get locked in, or him to get locked in, kinda like the weight that’s put on Guru and premier to where if they split up, everybody is really critical.

A lot of your music, especially the last two albums, has been very personal. Do you see music as therapy?
Oh, definitely. This album is my first step away from that, because there is a lot of stuff that isn’t so autobiographical. It’s still real life, day-to-day stuff, but not so many of my stories. It’s not that I’m running out of stories, but 3:16 was all personal and everything I’ve felt. Some people feel I’m too emo, but yeah, I’m gonna continue to get it out there. If there is something I feel I need to say, and I think someone else is going through it, then I’m gonna say it.

I heard E-40 say in an interview that every rapper has got a little E-40 in them. What part of 40 do you see in yourself?
The more I listen to this album I think I incorporate a lot of E-40, because a lot of the stories he tells aren’t about him. He’ll do a song like “One Love” from In a Major Way where he’s talking to his homeboy from jail like, “when you see my momma give her a hug.” That’s the realm I stepped into with this album. People know 40 is from the hood, and instead of just talking that, “I’ll shoot you,” he talks like he’s youngster on the set, or like that dude locked up. He’s truly the voice of the ghetto, but he’s not just saying it from one perspective. One thing I would like to say is that I did get all my game from the Bay, and I’ll never forget that. I have so much love for the Bay area. I wouldn’t be shit without everything I learned there. It was just the experience; the people, the weather, the BART, the taco trucks, everything made me who I am today.

As a hustler yourself, is there somebody whose hustle you really look up to?
Aw man, there is this guy in my neighborhood named Walker Martin. He owned Martin’s records, and he is one of the greatest human beings. He’s out-smoked Method Man and Ol’ Dirty Bastard, at 50 years old. He has a wife who’s my age; actually he married the finest girl from my neighborhood in my age group! He always had at least a roll of $5,000 in cash, an ounce of weed, a 45 and a bottle of Hennessey on him at all times, but the coolest guy ever. He doesn’t have a driver's license to this day. Like he’s just one of the weirdest, quirkiest dudes, but he’s always made sure he had money to be able to provide for his family and friends. He gave me a job when I needed one, so as far as hustling goes, street shit, he’s my idol. He’s retired now; he doesn’t drink or smoke anymore, don’t know if he still has his gun, I don’t talk about that with him, but he’s just raising his kid.

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