"I Heard it On Tik Tok"
- Lorenzo Alexander
- Dec 3, 2025
- 6 min read
Updated: Mar 29
The year is 2007. You've just discovered a new Lil Wayne track that was uploaded to hotnewhip-hop.com, and you're about to add it to your MySpace page. Your friends see on their feed that you uploaded it, visit your page, then listen to the latest Lil Wayne song. Or perhaps it's 2001. You wake up, head to the store for a sandwich, and notice a box of newly released bootleg movies and mixtapes. You pick up the latest 50 Cent mixtape and pay for it along with your meal.
Whether you were driving around with friends or just at the club, music discovery was incredibly diverse before the streaming era. Everyone had songs that others didn't have, and everyone had a unique music video on YouTube they frequently referred to. Music transcended all manipulated markets and made itself marketable through demand.
There was a time when sharing sources for finding new music was considered sacred, and exchanging rare tracks was a personal experience. Unreleased songs, freestyles, DVDs, cassettes, and various types of physical media were shared with a deep sense of respect.
As we become increasingly absorbed in the streaming world, we've noticed that music, discovery opportunities, and our enthusiasm for staying updated with beloved genres are fading. Nowadays, the most common method to share music is by posting a screenshot or sharing what you're listening to on your Instagram story. However, the continuous stream of jokes on Twitter has made it clear that people aren't genuinely listening to the songs others post.
TikTok has become an increasingly popular platform among GenZ for discovering music. It has enabled younger generations to engage with music from earlier eras or genres they might not typically explore. However, TikTok's content is governed by an algorithm. As users discover and explore music through TikTok, this algorithmic control can result in significant monetization and exploitation, as industries manipulate the algorithm to promote certain artists.
This raises the question of what the next generation should do to discover underground artists, artists beyond their usual scope, or music from before their time that isn't heavily promoted by the industry.
From conversations with avid music discovery enthusiasts, I've discovered that YouTube provides the best algorithm for finding unreleased, leaked, and exclusive content from artists. When artists like Rod Wave and NBA YoungBoy release visuals on YouTube, the views skyrocket. There are three generations of music consumers who use YouTube to access artists' content. For the older generations, it was shows like 106 & Park, The Apollo, and Soul Train. Now, underground artists have to compete with major mainstream rappers, raising the question of what space is left for them.
Another medium that has diminished in its role as a valuable resource for consumers to discover music is the radio. On X, discussions about Bill Clinton's impact on local radio stations through the Telecommunications Act of 1996 have shed light on how iHeartRadio managed to dominate the media landscape. By acquiring numerous stations and primarily playing artists for whom they hold licensing rights, they stifled diversity in music. This shift eradicated regional sounds and promoted artists who receive significant investment from the music industry, rather than those who are necessarily the most talented.
Growing up with my father, a DJ, he would take me to record stores, CD stores, and video stores, allowing me to immerse myself in physical media, much like he did as a child searching for records to play. While I wasn't interested in much of the music, seeing mixtape and album covers helped me become familiar with music, its history, and the evolution of artists. Unknowingly, I was forming a mental list of art I wanted to revisit. The vastness of the music archive fascinated me early on, and my music journey paralleled how he would take me to the library to explore literature. Discovering music was just as important as discovering books.
As we approach the end of the year and observe everyone's Spotify Wrapped, Apple Music Replay, and Tidal Rewind, it seems that a common theme is emerging. Most people, myself included, are still listening to the same artists they've enjoyed over the past decade. This could be due to extensive music libraries with tracks released by artists over the years, or it might relate to how people consume music, whether through playlist shuffles or specific sequencing.
A primary reason many people aren't keen on keeping up with new music, particularly rap, is that they never liked it to begin with. Understanding Black culture offers various sociological benefits for non-Black individuals. It enables them to engage with these cultures without necessarily respecting the art or its creators. To clarify, there's nothing controversial about non-Black individuals consuming rap; the controversy lies in how it is interpreted, digested, and ultimately perpetuated. It is often embraced for the attention it garners when there's a chance to receive credit or praise for having an "unconventional taste," which can lead to intrigue and sometimes even respect from its originators. Whether the appreciation of the music is genuine or not, unfortunately, the intention isn't always apparent. There's nothing edgy or interesting about liking rap music as a non-Black person, just like there would be nothing edgy or interesting about a Black person liking rock, country, or house music. The truth is if all the popular music consumed in America was disrespected like rap is for its origins and ties to Blackness, there would be nothing for non-Black music lovers to consume. American music is Black music. From its inception, rap has often been interpreted in a racist manner by the general public. It was perceived as music that resonated with and empowered Black people, which is frequently seen as a threat to some individuals, whether it be Black joy, happiness, or understanding. However, the issue now extends beyond racism to include classism. People are finding ways to appropriate rap to make it more palatable for themselves by supporting artists who imitate the culture for commercial gain. Eventually, this trend may extend to artificial intelligence and other means of extracting Blackness from the genre.
K-pop fans are rallying around artist Cortis, a well-known figure in the Korean community. This Korean superstar is often compared to contemporary artists like Travis Scott, Don Toliver, Gunna, and other sonically appealing rappers. However, influencers have recently criticized K-pop fans for supporting this artist while being critical of or ignoring the renowned hip-hop acts that inspired him. Appropriation in rap is not new; it is often seen with white artists. However, when people of color also bypass rap culture to support its byproducts, it highlights the disrespect towards black music.
The truth is that rap is a distinct genre. There will always be an artist whose lyrics resonate with your experiences. Unlike other genres, it's difficult for artists to consistently maintain the quality they had during their prime. Artists often seek creative ways to reinvent themselves or, more commonly, continue doing what initially brought them success. This is why the rap that people cherish after they feel they've outgrown it is the rap that was most significant during a pivotal time in their lives, and its influence extends from there. For instance, if someone enjoyed Nicki Minaj's music from 2010 to 2017, they might find that period's music sufficient to satisfy their interest, and it will continue to captivate them in the future. As a rap fan who listens to Nicki Minaj from 2010 onward, they also appreciate the artists she paved the way for, such as Latto, Megan Thee Stallion, Ice Spice, and more.
In rap, you're not confined to delivering what people already know. The evolution and experimentation in rap are encouraged throughout every stage of an MC's career. Rap and poetry embody wisdom, and as you age, you continue to acquire more wisdom.
The major problem with the way rap is perceived as we age is rooted in anti-blackness. Over the years, many music fans have claimed they've "outgrown" rap. To many, rap is merely a phase that warrants attention only from a younger audience. For a lot of people, even those who enjoy it, rap was viewed more as an act of rebellion and defiance rather than an art form. Instead of recognizing rappers as commentators on their circumstances, many consumers see them as glorifying those circumstances. This dehumanization of the artists and their experiences promotes a pretentious attitude towards how expression should be handled in music.
Fortunately, thanks to artists like Nas, Common, and BlackThought, older musicians are feeling more welcomed and less hesitant to release the music they create. It has traditionally been frowned upon for older artists to release projects, but music is something you never outgrow. This year, Big L, De La Soul, Raekwon, Mobb Deep, Ghostface Killah, and The Clipse all released high-quality projects, and I believe they are paving the way for a new era in rap.
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