Eight years ago, in his West Coast marijuana haze, Snoop Dogg ardently sang along to YG and Nipsey Hussle’s anti-Trump protest song, "FDT," which stands for "F**k Donald Trump."
“We ain’t voting for your punk a**,” Snoop stated to his followers, taking a hit of his blunt.
Flash forward to Jan. 18., the rapper, who called people "stupid motherf**kers" for voting for Trump, headlined an inauguration event called the Crypto Ball where he, along with Rick Ross and Soulja Boy, rubbed shoulders with crypto-bro billionaires — posting videos to Instagram flashing their connections to high-powered places and people.
There is a growing trend with some of hip-hop's influential stars aligning themselves with conservative politics.
Dressed in their black designer suits, three of the biggest names in hip-hop took the stage and performed their hits for some of Washington D.C's crypto executives at the event honoring Trump, which dubbed him "America's first crypto president."
Snoop's Trump-sympathizing pivot did not go unnoticed by people online who were quick to highlight that the rapper had previously skewered anyone who had performed for Trump in the past. "I'm gonna roast the f*** outta you," Snoop Dogg said before Trump's 2017 inauguration, calling artists who would perform for the president "Uncle Toms."
While Snoop hasn't commented on the heated criticisms against him, Soulja Boy took to Instagram to clarify why he chose to perform at the ball: "They paid me a bag."
The lucrative business of hip-hop has created billionaires like the disgraced hip-hop mogul Sean "Diddy" Combs and Roc Nation CEO and rapper, Shawn "Jay-Z" Carter, emphasizing progress in Black entrepreneurship and capitalism. However, there is a growing trend with some of hip-hop's influential stars aligning themselves with conservative politics — starting with Kanye West and Lil Wayne, and now, figures like former vocal anti-Trumper, Snoop Dogg.
Salon talked to Derrick Darby, a philosophy professor at Rutgers University specializing in hip-hop and political philosophy, to try and make sense of this shift. Darby broke down the ever-changing and nuanced politics and identity attached to Trumpism in Black communities — especially in hip-hop.
"Cash rules everything around me . . . [Get the money] dollar, dollar bill, y'all," Darby said, summarizing the situation using Wu-Tang Clan lyrics.
Read our interview below to understand why, as Darby puts it, "our community, much like many other communities, is not monolithic."
The following transcript has been lightly edited for length and clarity.
When hip-hop was first created, how did the genre showcase the Black experience and how did the Black experience relate to politics?
When it was first created — going back to the early '70s in the South Bronx, where hip-hop had its origins — the area was severely neglected in many ways by the government. It was plagued by extreme poverty, limited job opportunities, a poor public education system, and widespread street violence. Young people, however, responded by creating a powerful art form that initially served as a way to get kids off the streets and out of gangs, channeling their energy into more productive directions.
At its inception, hip-hop was born out of the creativity of young people from the ghettos, who had very limited resources. With great ingenuity, they transformed the raw elements of DJing, breakdancing, and graffiti into a cohesive culture. This not only engaged kids in creative expression but also led to increased political awareness. Hip-hop began to shine a light on their circumstances, highlighting what was wrong and how to improve it.
One of the first significant rap songs to address these issues was "The Message." Melle Mel delivered that unforgettable line: "Now, if a child is born with no state of mind / Blind to the ways of mankind." That lyric was a powerful call to consciousness, embodying the political awareness that hip-hop embraced from its birth. Melle Mel’s verse in "The Message" remains a foundational piece of hip-hop’s political consciousness.
How have people like Snoop Dogg, Rick Ross, Nelly and Soulja Boy contributed to the genre in this way?
All the people you just mentioned are clearly very important hip-hop pioneers, innovators, and creatives. One thing we must underscore when thinking about these individuals is their independence and their genius. That’s the key aspect we truly need to appreciate, and it accounts for why many of them have had long careers and remain household names in some sense. Their music has endured, and they’ve found ways to continue influencing popular culture. So it’s important to emphasize their independence and creativity.
"I believe we must respect the fact that they have the freedom to make those choices."
Now, the other thing we know is that hip-hop artists, like other artists, can choose to use their significant platforms in different ways — some ways we might not like, and others we might applaud. We remember, during the first Trump presidency, when Kanye decided to use his platform in ways that many people found appalling. We also remember when Ice Cube was open to engaging in conversation with the Trump administration because he thought it could be productive in securing needed resources for the community. Hip-hop artists make these choices about how to use their significant platforms, and they can do so in ways that are politically significant. Then, we must decide what we think about that. However, I believe we must respect the fact that they have the freedom to make those choices.
What is Snoop’s role as a figurehead of hip-hop in the past? What is his significance as a figure now?
Snoop is such an important figure. In our imagination, we picture the young Snoop and Dr. Dre teaming up to deliver what many consider one of the greatest hip-hop collaborations of all time — music that has had a profound impact on hip-hop as a whole. That music was defiant, deeply critical of the nation, and graphic in its depiction of life in the hood and the challenges people faced. That’s the Snoop we grew up on. That’s the Snoop who cemented his reputation as a hip-hop icon.
But now, we turn around and see Snoop everywhere. We see him at the Super Bowl. We see him at the Olympics. We see him on "The Voice." We see him in countless product endorsements. And now, we see Snoop at the Trump Ball. This reflects another reality of hip-hop that we need to emphasize: hip-hop is a multi-billion-dollar industry. It has made a lot of people rich, though much of that wealth has gone to corporations rather than the artists themselves. However, we’re now witnessing a time when artists like Snoop — and a select few others — have strategically leveraged their brand to enrich themselves.
At the same time, Snoop has given back to his community. He has remained deeply invested in South Central Los Angeles, supporting community programs and helping kids. Snoop is not just about himself; he has accumulated great wealth, but he has also reinvested it in the community.
The point is that there is money in hip-hop, and someone like Snoop is not afraid to embrace that reality. The other truth — whether we like it or not — is that Donald Trump is good for business. This is part of why he’s back in office; people see opportunities to make money. And here we have it: a hip-hop icon who was once associated with some of the most powerful and progressive music has now evolved into a figure who has fully embraced hip-hop’s profitability, using it to elevate himself even further in popular culture.
There is this conflicting nature of Snoop Dogg's recent support of Trump because there has been a record of his seemingly anti-Trump opinions. What has happened to lead up to this shift?
People don’t really remember this, but back in the day, hip-hop culture — people on the street — loved Trump. Trump was at all the Mike Tyson fights. He represented something that a lot of aspirational people wanted to be: someone with money, power, and influence. At the time, you found a lot of rap music referencing Trump as a symbol of those aspirations. Now, Trump is a political figure who is controversial in all kinds of ways, but he still represents something that some people aspire to.
"People don’t really remember this, but back in the day, hip-hop culture — people on the street — loved Trump."
One of the things we need to grapple with is how many young Black and brown men supported Trump this time around, including people we know personally. Part of that support ties into this imagery of hyper-masculinity: “I can do what I want, I can be rich, I can flaunt it, and I have power.” There’s something there. I don’t know what part of that resonates with Snoop, and I don’t think we can attribute any of this to him specifically. Snoop, at this point, is very opportunistic. He recognizes the value of his brand and has positioned himself in circles where he can continue to elevate himself.
We always have to navigate this delicate balance of considering how artists express themselves through their art versus how they live their lives. We can’t always put the burden on them to live as we imagine they should, based on what we hear in their music.
Are the wealthy hip-hop figures at the Crypto Ball purely in it for the financial incentive of cozying up with billionaires?
You remember what Wu-Tang taught us? "Cash rules everything around me . . . [Get the money] dollar, dollar bill, y'all."
I think people are fundamentally interested in providing for themselves and their families. Whether you’re a Hollywood actor, a rock-and-roll star, a country music star, or a hip-hop artist, the goal is often the same: to provide for loved ones. People want to donate to causes they believe in — whether it’s hurricane relief or helping those affected by the devastating fires on the West Coast.
People also want the means to pass down wealth to their kids and grandkids. The thing about celebrity, though, is that it’s often not something you can count on lasting forever. Another notable aspect of Snoop’s story is his age — and the fact that he’s likely richer now than he’s ever been. That’s thanks, in part, to the team around him that has kept him at the forefront of public attention. You see him on TV; he comes across as personable and likable. And he’s turning that likability into financial success.
Nelly’s performance at the Liberty Ball also received pushback from people but he said his decision to perform was not based on politics as an independent. How could someone’s apoliticalness at this time be more dangerous or fuel Trump’s agenda further?
People can interpret this sort of apolitical stance as a quiet endorsement, and that’s one danger you have. Think about all those years, just to make a comparison, when Michael Jordan avoided touching political issues during his basketball career. People always wanted Michael Jordan to weigh in on the events of the day, but he stayed quiet. He didn’t say anything. Some people assumed all kinds of things: “Are you endorsing something by staying silent? You have this powerful platform. People listen to you. Kids look up to you. You’ve got money and power—why don’t you say something, Michael?”
Michael responded, “No, I’m not speaking up. I’m playing basketball.” It’s a similar situation, right? Silence could be interpreted as a quiet endorsement. On the other hand, failing to use that powerful voice could be viewed as letting down the people you could help — not using your power to support causes that need attention. It’s a missed opportunity, and you could even be seen as culpable.
So, those are two ways Nelly could get caught up in this. One, his silence might be interpreted as a political endorsement. Two, people might argue that he should use his platform to speak out against injustice, condemn wrongdoing, or support meaningful causes.
This isn’t the first time high-profile, wealthy Black men in hip-hop have aligned themselves with Trump. First was Kayne and then Lil Wayne. Last year, Kodak Black, Rod Wave and Sexyy Redd all endorsed Trump. How does this sympathy for Trump highlight a potentially troubling, growing pattern within the community?
I just published a book called "Boxed In: Making Identities Safe for Democracy." One premise of this book is that our community, like many others, is not monolithic. It’s very heterogeneous. People have different views about politics, wealth, education, relationships, and economics. It’s always important to understand that you’re going to run into trouble if you try to put Black people in a box. We saw that with Kanye, when people thought, “Are you Black? Are you down? How can you be supporting Trump?” We might ask the same thing about some of these other figures.
"We can find ourselves in situations where we assume our condemnation of artists who align with conservatives is clearly justified, but we forget that our own community can be quite conservative too."
For example, if you believe Trump is good for business, that there’s too much regulation hurting entrepreneurs, and that Trump’s pro-deregulation stance will help entrepreneurs make more money, then you’re going to applaud that — even if you dislike some of the other things he stands for. Many Black people I know believe we shouldn’t be spending so much money in Ukraine when we have communities here at home that need help. If Trump says we need to stop sending all this money overseas, some people will find value in that.
You have to understand that our community is not monolithic in its thinking, even though people like to put us in a box. If you say you’re a Black woman, people think they’ve got you all figured out. One major thing Trump is doing now is targeting the transgender community. While we have transgender people in our community, we also have those who buy into this sort of macho mentality. Some valorize Africa, and many African nations are implementing laws that harshly punish — even execute — people who are gay.
Our community is very diverse, and I think we don’t always pay enough attention to that. We can find ourselves in situations where we assume our condemnation of artists who align with conservatives is clearly justified, but we forget that our own community can be quite conservative too. Just think about how religion shapes our views or the differences between being Black and raised in the South versus being Black and raised in a city in the North — sometimes it’s a completely different political outlook.
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Some of this condemnation has been spreading online, and people have circulated a clip of Malcolm X talking about Black leaders or celebrities becoming puppets for the white establishment. They're drawing this comparison between these hip-hop stars who have become very wealthy and are now cozying up to these people. Why are people making this connection?
There could be a lot of things going on here, but one thing I’d suggest is referring to one of our great hip-hop artists who continues to be productive and has also made himself a billionaire: Nas. I grew up in the same neighborhood as Nas — Queensbridge public housing projects. Nas’ music is very dear to me. If you look at one joint he made on his "Street’s Disciple" album, there’s a cut called “These Are Our Heroes.”
In that song, he’s talking about Kobe [Bryant], but the broader point he’s making is about the people we put on platforms and pedestals, the ones we look up to. He’s also saying, “Look, sometimes we just have to see people for who they are, and we can’t keep putting them on these pedestals.” We need to think critically about who we choose to make heroes.
Some of these artists don’t always want to be seen as role models. They want to say, “Look, this is my music. I’m an artist. I’m a creator. I can make a good living doing this, and that’s what I’m doing. But don’t project your morals and views onto me. I don’t want to bear that responsibility.” I think this is another thing we need to wrestle with — the ways in which we put these artists on pedestals and see them as heroes.
We have made these artists pillars of the industry, and if they are aligning themselves with billionaires who support Trump and just Trump in general, could this shift the hip-hop industry? Could it fall in line with Trumpism?
What do we mean by conservative ideology? It depends on what you’re talking about. Are you talking about locking people up? Are you talking about making it easier for entrepreneurs to make money? Are you talking about shutting down the border? Are you talking about taking away trans rights? Are you talking about what we teach our kids in school or what textbooks should say?
You can go into different churches and hear some of the same things you hear from Trump. In some Black churches, we hear preachers say there are two sexes: male and female. They don’t want to talk about gender or bathrooms for boys who are now girls. This rhetoric exists in these Black churches. When we talk about conservatism, it’s not just something we’re seeing because Trump is on the scene now. It’s been around for a long time. Trump is on everyone’s mind because he’s Trump — he’s famous. That’s how he set it all up. But these ideas have been around and have been part of Black culture for a very long time.
Black entrepreneurship has also been a significant part of Black culture. We’ve had Black millionaires for a long time, and like other millionaires, they are concerned about their money. This is part of what we’ve always had to navigate. I don’t think we can single hip-hop out as uniquely problematic in this way. If we have a problem with this, then we have a problem with a lot more than hip-hop.
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