I thought he was gone. The pen? Dry. The beats? Hush. The Instagram? Scrubbed.
Anyone paying attention for the past half-decade knew damn well Baby Keem had gone quiet as a church mouse. No albums, no mixtapes, not even a damn EP.
Win a Grammy with your cousin Kendrick Lamar and hide under some money trees, eh? Must be nice, eh? Pop out only when it’s time to blend Bon Iver with Jersey club, eh?
You know it really burns my brisket when a rapper, sheesh, a producer too, no less, can get a referral from their famous cousins and turn success into a siesta. Guys like me, detectives? Life hands us a shit sandwich and we find out we’re allergic to peanuts.
But Keem had everything family ties to rap royalty could afford: features, a record deal, and production credits on the Black Panther soundtrack before he was old enough to order a Shirley Temple at Sapphire. But there’s one thing Keem had that connections couldn’t buy: talent.
So when word got around that the Black Brad Paisley was back in action my emotions on Baby Keem went from peeved to pleased to perplexed. I had to know, is Baby Keem the best nepo-rapper ever?
Sure, there are plenty of MCs who walked out of the womb to an advance and a beat tape from The Trackmasters. But who made the most out of leverage and actually earned their keep?
It’s an investigation I couldn’t run away from even if I tried.
The Case for Keem
Baby Keem is back, but are you happy for him?
Anyone attached to the nepotism narrative benefits from a trampoline launch pad while carrying a 10 ton backpack full of audience doubt. I suspect Keem has courted this in ascent and absence alike.
Before turning 24, Baby Keem racked up 19 Platinum plaques – most on his own and others with the help of K.Dot, Ye, and Travis Scott. Months away from turning 25, he has 16.1 million monthly listeners on Spotify, more than the non-Kendrick members of Black Hippy combined.
On his sophomore effort, Ca$ino, Keem’s kinship to Kendrick remains strong as his celebrity cousin appears twice. Yet, it's his less famous family members that are discussed in the bulk of the bars. To Keem’s credit, he doesn’t cling on to Kendrick nor make the standard sophomore album about the perils of fame. Ok, enough small talk and coddling. Can the kid really rap? Ironically enough, tracks titled “I Am Not a Lyricist” and “Circus Circus Freestyle” show the dichotomy of Keem’s rapping range from vulnerable, straight-forward storytelling for somber moments alone, to boisterous bars that could soundtrack a house party or spin class. All the while, lane changing beats and a 33-minute run time display dexterity and discipline as an auteur.
Acting as a writer and producer on every track gives him standalone sauce when you’d expect most nepo-rappers to be spoonfed. It provides a strong hunch that Keem can not only emerge from his cousin’s shadow but offer artistic direction and youthful insights that any approaching 40 vet can surely use.
But to truly tell if my theory is correct, if I really am a private eye and not a public dick, I’d have to investigate all possible prospects across regions and even eras.
After an inside source at 23 & Me confirmed that Dwyane Carter Jr. is not Birdman’s son, I began thumbing through old XXL magazines, SEO-driven rap blog lists, and a tattered copy of Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul.
If not Baby Keem due to recency bias or Weezy F. Baby based on ancestry evidence, where could the best nepo-rapper be?
Wednesday, Feb. 18, 2:34 a.m.: Fat Tuesday Theories and an Unknown Number from the 504
In a case where there are no leads, you have to start somewhere. And that somewhere was the Bayou.
Throughout the 1990s, New Orleans was producing nepo-rappers quicker than crawfish étouffée. A whole run of muffulettas MCs would avoid being po’ boys thanks to a family recipe zestier than Zatarain's, gaining glory in the projects of The Big Easy before tickling TRL tastebuds to the tune of many millions served.
Percy Miller, Tha Last Don of the No Limit Records operation known by his associates as Master P, turned blood relatives into Rap City superstars thanks to a savvy formula: spread out all of the best songs across countless compilations and solo LPs.
A sibling and a salesman, he packaged each project in glossy, gaudy and explicit Pen & Pixel album covers capable of giving you either a boner or a heart attack.
This tactic worked. In fact, it worked so well that P was presenting his brothers Corey and Vyshonn, better known as C-Murder and Silkk the Shocker, as solo stars in their own right.
It didn’t take long for the younger Vyshonn to take the lob from big brother Percy, putting out back-to-back Platinum projects in less than a year’s time.
But was Silkk the Shocker actually good?
Sure, his off-beat, decel step flow aged like a prom queen with bad manners. But access to the best beats made by KLC and Craig B created a contrast that, dammit, I liked. At his most nimble, Silkk could go beignet Bone Thugs on “The Shocker” and even steal the show on “Hoody Hoo” before P botched his momentum.
Montell Jordan and Mya each have Silkk the Shocker songs I like, but could I recite a verse from him or at best quote a lyric?
The last time I tried karaoke on the job, it almost got me taken off the force. Silkk can’t be the best nepo-rapper, it’s not his fault.
The case for Master P’s other brother, C-Murder may be stronger, holding his own on T.R.U. bangers and releasing perhaps the best song a No Limit artist has ever made. In time, his rap sheet beyond rap diminished his output but added to his folklore.
But if that mattered C-Murder would go Platinum. But wait, C-Murder did go Platinum. In fact, he went Platinum seven times if you count compilations and soundtracks.
I haven’t given up on New Orleans yet nor have I ruled out the Miller family tree. To find the biggest nepo-rapper I had to take a look at the Big Apple.
Thursday, Feb. 19, 6:17 p.m.: The Place Where Stars are Born… on Third Base?
Before beefing with backpackers or Love & Hip-Hop co-stars, Consequence claimed a writing resume wittier than Keem with stories stronger than Silkk or C-Murder. Like Keem, his career was kick-started by acclaimed cousin Q-Tip, sliding in as the unofficial fifth member of A Tribe Called Quest on the solid yet less loved Beats, Rhymes & Life.
An unprecedented placement led to an up-and-down decade, first offering a rubber to Phife Dawg on “Phony Rappers” to eventually sharpening iron and finding his rhythm on early Kanye West work. An early diet of humble pie and sour grapes shaped Cons into a blog era swan song, reliable for wordplay flexes across mixtapes and a stellar solo debut. It’s said that Cons has an unreleased album produced entirely by Q-Tip and Kanye West.
If that ever sees the light of day, maybe I’ve found my man, but until then, the search continues.
Across New York’s rap scene, the term cousin gets tossed around like an episode of The Bear. CL Smooth sits in the center of much of it, said to get early rhyme writing help from his cousin Grand Puba after rising in the ranks with partner Pete Rock, a first cousin of Heavy D.While CL Smooth’s apex album is beloved, the amount of output isn’t on par with Cons or Keem. You’d be hard pressed to find a member of the Okayplayer Police Department not zeroing in on RZA, GZA and Ol’ Dirty Bastard all being cousins. But is it really nepotism if each artist comes to fame at seemingly the same time?
No, it can’t be. To truly be considered the greatest nepo-rapper, privilege must place you with an opportunity that talent alone would struggle to get.
So, you mysterious nepo-rapper, who is your daddy and what does he do?
Thursday, Feb. 19, 8:40 p.m.: The Parent Trap
My old man never handed me a mic and a studio session with Scott Storch. He made me watch NYPD Blue reruns, studying Sipowicz like he was Socrates.
The same can’t quite be said for Cory Gunz, son of Peter Gunz, or Destroy Lonely, whose proud pops is I-20. Being the son of Gunz set the stage for a feature placement on Rihanna albums and Tunechi singles, but never a full-fledged debut of his own. Destroy Lonely’s catalog is surprisingly sprawling, proving that road rage rap may be the precursor to actual rage rap.
But is the best nepo-rapper hiding on the pop charts? Expensive samples set the stage for Coi Leray and Lil Romeo, even landing the junior Miller a hoop scholarship at USC and a Rob Base remake on the Kangaroo Jack soundtrack.
Wait a tick, not only did Master P refashion “Dumb Girl,” “Eric B is President,” and “It Takes Two,” but he put his family on each song. We have certainly found rap’s greatest nepotist.
Jaden Smith, North West? Sure, maybe someday, but not this one. It appears leads in the Puff Daddy & The Bad Boy Family search have been reduced to Sean Combs and his actual family, leaving only King Combs under suspicion. Interestingly enough, that’s leading me in another direction and a theory I’d like to test out.
Perhaps having a parent as an artist isn’t as powerful as having a parent who is in the industry.
Waka Flocka Flame caught fire in part by having a mom who managed Gucci Mane and Nicki Minaj, while 2Hollis takes heat for having a mother with her own PR firm. Being put on game is a helpful head start, but being given the game is another level.
Jermaine Dupri got an all-access pass to the inner workings of the music biz, dancing on stage for Whodini at a mere 12 years old. By 21 he had his own record label. While Dupri definitely did his thing as a producer, songwriter, and exec, having only two albums as a solo artist isn’t enough evidence.
The case for Keem thickens…
Friday, Feb. 20, 7:38 p.m.: Success and Succession
Kendrick Lamar is not your savior, but he does appear to be a way better cousin than the one who stole Kanye’s laptop.
In Keem’s recent documentary, Kendrick claims he’s got “a thousand f***ng cousins that rap and do music.” Based on the VHS footage, Jarrell and Jackie sound pretty damn good to me.
Shit, have I been chasing the wrong Duckworth descendant this whole time?
“Out of all of them, [Keem] was the best one at 14 or 15 years old,” said Lamar shortly after.
"Phew," said me.
As explored in the NYC portion of my investigation, rap is littered with accomplished cousins. Where it gets tricky is not what blood relative of another rapper is the best but who was the best while being put on the most.
Cousins like Snoop Dogg and Nate Dogg, Ice Cube and Del the Funk Homosapien, or even uncle/nephew tandem Quavo and the late Takeoff are all acclaimed in their own right, but didn’t benefit from being signed by the reigning best rapper alive at 19.
That’s why it’s 7:38 p.m. on a Friday night and I just can’t get this damn thing off my mind. As I listen to Ca$ino on repeat, a line lodged at Kendrick years before is all I hear: “K-Dot shit is only hittin’ hard when Baby Keem put his pen to it.”
The jab by Drake in “Family Matters” — criminally underrated diss track by the way — was labeled a nothing noodle in one big helping of lie lasagna. But what if it wasn’t? Could Keem secretly be crafting heat for Kendrick even if he’s entirely absent on the GNX credits? Creating waves to stay current, similar to the role many assume Lil Yachty was enlisted to take on for Drake?
It may take one to know one. But will anyone believe that? Probably no one.
Alas, the search continues.
Monday, Feb. 23, 11:02 a.m.: Hiding in Plain Sight (and I Didn’t Even Know It)
For days, I looked all over Las Vegas for signs that my hare-brained theory was right: Comeback Keem is the best nepo-rapper not just of the moment but on track to be the best one ever.
Could it be recency bias or worse, a symptom of food poisoning from the all-you-can-eat breakfast at Guy Fieri’s Kitchen & Bar?
Maybe an old detective like me has been looking at this all wrong.
To be the best nepo-rapper, you must be the best rapper to benefit from nepotism. To benefit from nepotism, you don’t have to be the sibling of another rapper or even the child of an exec.
Maybe, just maybe, you need to be the cousin of a producer.
Ladies and gentlemen, the best nepo-rapper is Future.
Like a European basketball prodigy, Nayvadius Wilburn developed for years under pros before entering the spotlight, sharpening his pen through the tutelage of first-cousin Rico Wade and the Dungeon Family. As a teen, he wrote for Ludacris and learned from Sleepy Brown.
That timeline and type of teaching is akin to Keem, both genre fluid songwriters in their own right, capable of shifting pitch or switching flows. In fact, Keem has already made more noise as an artist at 25 than Future had at said age.
Yet, to surpass Future in the nepo-rapper ranks — which is not a slight, Steph Curry is the world’s greatest and most beloved nepo-baller, mind you — it’ll take a decade of heat, hits and an output much more rapid than what we’ve seen so far.
Hopefully, the heavy lifting done by Keem on Ca$ino will open the floodgates for creativity on the mic and behind the boards. But for now, this investigation is closed.
