The music video for "Who I Smoke" currently has over 20 million views on YouTube. On a surface level, it's a campy spin on Vanessa Carlton's "A Thousand Miles," similar to Baltimore rapper YTK'south contempo Mariah Carey-inspired "Permit It Off." The video shows Florida artists Spinabenz, Whoppa Wit Da Choppa, Yungeen Ace, and FastMoney Goon wylin' out on a golf game course with all their jewels on while they rap. Information technology's as if the video handling came from the same Wayans Brothers who wrote the infamous scene of Terry Crews singing "A Chiliad Miles" in White Chicks.

The "Who I Smoke" video is the kind of ironic, outlandish content that makes for great social media forage. It'south hard not to gawk at. Only a deeper understanding of the lyrics should make near want to plow away in discomfort. The vocal's title, "Who I Smoke," refers to the slang of "smokin'" dead enemies. The phrase "smokin on (insert person)" pack has assimilated into the cyberspace lexicon to disrespect the likes of Rush Limbaugh, but like so many things in pop culture, it came at the expense of a Black life. Chicago youth coined the term in the early 2010s to joke about a 15-yr-erstwhile rival who was fatally shot ("smoked"), allegedly a sick twist on the story that The Outlawz smoked their friend Tupac'southward ashes.

It's on that grisly premise that "Who I Smoke" lies. The song is a manifestation of a generation that knows goose egg else but the cyberspace being a gratuitous-for-all—and at present it's their plow. They've seen rappers utilise the digital space to diss their enemies and proceeds traction for it; they've seen people utilize social media to fan the flames of local beef; and they're thirsty for social media fame.

When you grow up in proximity to an endless cycle of gun violence and desire to assert your side's superiority, a common route to attracting viral attention is to get every bit disrespectful as possible. Nosotros saw 50 Cent push limits with his antics vs. Rick Ross in 2009. Many recoiled when Chief Keef joked about the expiry of Lil JoJo on Twitter in 2012, or when his swain Chicagoans made songs reeling off the names of "dead opps." A couple of years later, the world was captivated by 6ix9ine's "test my gangster" performance, replete with an entire gang set as supporting cast.

The "Who I Smoke" rappers, and some of their young peers, may not know any improve than their social media antics, but older fans do. People of a certain age recall the negative elements of the Chicago drill scene's ascension. Young suburbanites lived vicariously through Chicago gang violence by using videos and social media to link certain drill artists to gangs. They spectated Twitter arguments and Instagram Alive sessions. People who weren't even full-fourth dimension artists became social media stars for their proximity to drill artists. Some fabricated fortunes off pathologizing the kids every bit "savages." The sensationalism tied to the scene hurt their power to perform in their dwelling urban center, and served as further impetus for cops to surveil them.

Most reactions to what'southward going on in Jacksonville correct now indicate that we're already headed downwards a similar path to what happened in Chicago. There's been a lot of hysteria about "Who I Smoke" and Foolio's Fantasia-sampling "When I See You" reply, and there'due south a whole ingather of kids who are enjoying having new "real" heroes to spectate. There are others gawking at the scene as if they represent a new low for humanity. And a minority is watching the scene with concern, hoping the artists can shake the conditioning of their surroundings and apply their talents to pb productive lives. Whatever people stop upwards doing afterward watching "Who I Smoke," the important function for the creators is that—for better or worse—they're watching.

We got to this point after a series of dramatic changes over the years, and nosotros can give thanks the internet and social media for expanding the war chest of rap beefiness. Artists had relatively express opportunities to talk their shit during the early 2000s, besides the occasional TV or radio appearance and magazine feature. But a changing media landscape, led past independent journalists, soon gave them new venues to air out enemies.

Tru Life hacked Jim Jones' MySpace page and posted edited photos feminizing the Dipset capo. The Game released an entire DVD dissing 50 Cent and G-Unit, including footage of him walking up to 50's Connecticut mansion. There was even the YouTuber who took it upon themself to reply to Cam'ron's "Swagger Jacker" Jay-Z diss with their own concocted prune of Cam'ron "biting" other MCs' lyrics.

The beef documentaries capitalized on fans' involvement in controversy by offering up the backside-the-scenes stories behind rap conflicts. Street DVDs similar SMACK DVD, The Come Up DVD, Cocaine City, and Sub-O DVD fulfilled fans' desire for intimate access to artists. They went anywhere and captured tensions betwixt not just star artists, only their crews. Suddenly, rap beef wasn't just about dueling songs or waiting three months to read what someone had to say virtually a foe in a mag. These new, raw media platforms were assuasive for instant smoke.

Sites similar YouTube, WorldstarHipHop, OnSMASH, ForbezDVD, and others picked up from the DVDs as resources for artists not simply to have in-depth interviews and share videos (including disses) only to drib clips dissing their rivals.

While some may betoken the finger at how disrespectful rap beef has get, information technology's too worth noting that these songs have millions of listeners. Many rap consumers want this violence.


These avenues gained more attention non merely for stars, just lesser known artists. French Montana, who started Cocaine City, used his platform to gain notoriety via videos featuring him and Max B dissing Jim Jones — and waiting exterior Jones' studio sessions. During the early stages of the fifty Cent vs. Rick Ross beef, artists like belatedly G-Unit of measurement chapter Mazaradi Pull a fast one on and a then-relatively unknown Gunplay became known on Worldstar, setting a precedent where it wasn't only two artists going at it; members of an artist'south entourage could gain a higher contour by jumping into the fray, too. Rap crews had the freedom to say whatever they wanted, unbound by radio or MTV regulations—and the disrespect was flagrant. To most listeners at the time, Pac's "MOB" and Biggie's "team in the marine blueish" were but faceless references when the two artists checked them on records. Imagine how much more than noise (and danger) there would have been during their disharmonize if both respective crews were in the public space, egging on violence.

That dynamic paved the way for what nosotros later saw from those in the orbit effectually drill music scenes. People like 6ix9ine's sometime manager Shotti didn't fifty-fifty rap, but he kept beef going with his repast ticket's rivals. These people had less to lose and more than to testify, which means they were willing to get nastier and escalate a state of war of words toward actual violence.

Rappers weren't the simply people using the internet every bit a battlefield. Oxford Bookish reported that "gang-associated youth use online platforms like Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram to taunt rivals and trade insults in ways that cause offline retaliation," though they besides qualified that "at that place is surprisingly trivial empirical inquiry investigating how gang-associated youth really deploy social media in gang conflicts and to what consequence." Forrest Stuart, a Stanford educator conducted a study with "60 immature men affiliated with gangs" and found that "opposite to common belief, the majority of social media challenges remain bars to online space and exercise non generate offline violence." Simply these arguments nevertheless stir a contentious atmosphere in neighborhoods rocked by gun violence. These platforms led young people with proximity to gangs to crave local hood fame and online notoriety via social media. And things often escalate even more quickly when they have rap aspirations.

While those who grew upwards in and around these communities were already used to such madness, the remainder of the world was start exposed to digital gang beef upon the rise of the Chicago drill scene. The world collectively gasped when Principal Keef joked about the death of rival rapper Lil JoJo, only those already in tune with the scene knew that this immature generation of rival neighborhoods were always interacting disrespectfully on social media.

Keef's tweet magnified how much Chicago's decades-long gang conflict had pervaded the metropolis's rap scene. Neighborhood friends of artists got on the radar of rap fans considering they were referenced in songs or seen in videos. Reddit pages and social media accounts popped up defended to chronicling arguments betwixt rival rappers and their crews. What was marketed in the rap media equally rap beefiness was actually gang beef that spilled into the music. Instead of traditional rap disses with name flips or music-orientated insults, artists would drib songs dissing entire gangs, spitting on the memories of their dead enemies. Artists vied to up the dues (and the engagement) by existence more disrespectful than the terminal song, reeling off longer and more savage assaults on the dead. And outside the berth, they would farther the tension by tweeting out jokes about slain rivals.

Rap fans have long been enamored with artists who rhyme about their gang ties in their music and give a glimpse of the lifestyle in videos. Social media offered an even more intimate opportunity to spectate gang culture and put a face on the people in the midst of the conflict.

6ix9ine admits to being influenced by the Chicago drill scene. The controversial rapper capitalized on the public's digital bloodthirst more than than anyone. He's a production of the social media generation that gained attention pre-rap, with antics like performing wrestling moves on bra-and-panty-clad women. Social engagement seems similar the most important thing in his life, leading him to employ an attention-at-all-costs mentality to rap with infamous consequences.

His daily calls for rap rivals and gang members alike to "test my gangster" didn't stay relegated to the internet. 6ix9ine got into a fight with a coiffure of people in Minnesota during Super Bowl LIl festivities, and with Rap-A-Lot affiliated artists at LAX. He had his coiffure rob ii people that he erroneously thought were also with Rap-A-Lot in New York (and reportedly filmed it). His beef with Casanova reportedly caused a shooting at Brooklyn's Barclays Heart, and he testified that he had someone shoot at Master Keef in 2018 after they got into it online.

Fifty-fifty though 6ix9ine ended upwardly temporarily incarcerated along with the Nine Trey Bloods he told on, his strategy was working for a time. He realized that the net ecosystem rewards shocking content, and he could turn his engagement into sales. The infamy he gained from beefiness helped him build a big fanbase that catapulted him to the top of the Billboard charts. The act of starting beef, gaining attention, and turning the hysteria into coin has become a risky blueprint for anyone longing to apace gain attention on social media.

That'due south the earth that these young Duval County rappers grew upwards in, and they're post-obit some of the aforementioned tactics as their predecessors. They're part of a generation of rappers who can't properly separate the streets from their profession—and they're getting momentarily rewarded for non being able to. The major beefiness in the city is centered around ascent rappers Foolio and Yungeen Ace, likewise as all their affiliates. They've used social media to antagonize each other, like when Yungeen Ace affiliate Ksoo got football game role player Leonard Fournette to hold upwardly a Mike Bibby bailiwick of jersey, unknowingly making calorie-free of Foolio's sixteen-yr-old friend Bibby (who Ksoo was recently charged with murdering). They took advantage of the momentary hype of the Clubhouse app by holding rooms where they antagonized each other. The pitiful reality is that their arguments could be considered a twisted course of rap marketing, as they satiated their impressionable fans' desire for drama.

Conflict is a surefire mode for artists to gain notoriety. Disrespectful records like "Who I Smoke" are going to run up the numbers for a time, but none of the fans who thirst for these antics are ever at that place when artists suffer the consequences of their actions. Julio Foolio recently told Circuitous that "the fans play a big part." He noted, "The same way our job is to wake up and rap, it'southward almost equally if some of these fans' jobs is to wake upwards and troll nether Foolio's comment section." Yungeen Ace added, "The fans brand this shit even deeper, and information technology turns into a pride thing… These folks don't care that we're talking about existent people because this is the entertainment industry, and they just want skillful music." To fans, it'southward just entertainment, even if people are dying behind it.

There have been numerous troubling instances of artists dying right after the release of incendiary diss songs. DC rapper OG ManMan was killed shortly later releasing "Truth," a diss song paired with a video depicting him at a rival'due south grave site. Chicago rapper Lli Marc was likewise killed days after releasing his OTF diss "No Competition." At that place'south no style to know the circumstances of their deaths, but inflammatory disses assist feed a trigger-happy climate. That's why King Von's uncle Range Rover Hand urged Lil Durk to stop dissing dead rivals subsequently his blood brother DThang was tragically murdered last weekend.

The lyrics on these aren't only confined—lives were lost. They deserve more than to exist commodified equally part of America'south lust for Black death.


So far, the Duval County scene has been engaged with by fans in a like fashion to Chicago drill: The artists' music is being disregarded in lieu of gawking at their conflicts. And we've already seen the larger consequences of defining a scene past its worst moments. The New York, London, and Chicago establishment has used sensational media coverage to stagnate their respective drill movements: stopping shows, surveilling artists, and veritably exiling its biggest stars. We've seen police departments weaponize the sensationalism past criminalizing artists, their lyrics, and even their social media footprint to ensnare them in sweeping gang indictments and RICOs. The justice arrangement'southward predatory tactics oasis't had the level of pushback they deserve because so much of the public buys the hype that these artists are "savages."

While some may bespeak the finger at how disrespectful rap beef has get, it'due south also worth noting that these songs have millions of listeners. Many rap consumers desire this violence. Rap music has go a multibillion dollar industry in function because information technology feeds racist fantasies about who Black people are. The farther the lines are blurred between rap and the streets, the more that listeners can go their set up of Black dysfunction (with no personal consequences). The ongoing fallout of King Von's decease is one of the more glaring examples, with fans spectating every evolution similar it's a reality show. At that place are too many rap consumers and rap media professionals who may like rap music, but couldn't care less well-nigh the people making the music. The lyrics on songs like "Who I Fume," FBG Duck's "Expressionless Bitches," and more aren't just bars—lives were lost. They deserve more than than to exist commodified as part of America'southward animalism for Black death.

There's a well-meaning inclination to theorize that young artists who reflect the violence in their cities are just products of their environment, but we should offer them more regard than to pretend they have no agency. These are intent decisions made by homo beings looking for a specific reaction and acting out against perilous weather condition. The earth is anti-Black; it makes sense that they lash out at this reality through war with faces that look like their own.

Instead of gasping at them and moving on, or coddling their actions with theorizing that doesn't address the root of the trouble, we should ask each other some questions: Why is the value of Blackness life and then low to then many people? What does it say most our lodge that lampooning Black death is deemed entertaining? How much of this morbid sense of humour is about hordes of immature people laughing to continue from crying or admitting their fear of life's fragility?

Renowned scholar and activist Kwame Ture once proclaimed, "History doesn't repeat itself… nothing can." The tragedy of underserved Black communities, which we see through rap, isn't a generational cycle, just a systematic deposition of humanity that's just getting deadlier every bit the toolbox expands. The net gives people the ways to go along up conflict in front of the whole world. And it also gives people who will never venture into certain neighborhoods a stake in fueling the violence within them. Instead of observing all of this, feeling powerless to the cycle, we can terminate the procedure.

It's mutual knowledge that acting out is a sign of depression self-esteem and loneliness. Doing so on social media may just exist a hope that the likes and views gained equally a result tin can temporarily fill a pigsty that society doesn't intendance to. The immature people in Chicago, Jacksonville, Brooklyn, and then many other cities aren't the only groups using the internet to act out. But living in an inequitable organisation means they're the only people facing deadly consequences for it.

During an interview with YouTuber Cam Capone, Foolio reflected on his beefiness with Yungeen Ace and also admitted, "Damn, I be thinkin,' what if all u.s.a. was like one? Like together… We would be powerful." It's possible. Merely everyone would first have to be in a infinite to encounter the bigger moving-picture show.

It took Gucci Mane and Jeezy experiencing the condolement of financial security and clarity of historic period to squash their differences and come to an understanding. Unfortunately, as well many rappers were killed before they reached that point, in part because their music was and then criminalized that information technology cost them opportunities and kept them in the hood, mired in a counterproductive mindset. Every onlooker who fans the flames of these beefs—from fans to media—is complicit in continuing that cycle. Perchance going forward, we could exist more cognizant of how to all-time engage with violent social media antics. It's a matter of life and death.