It’s fair to say that Todd “Too-Short” Shaw put the Bay Area on the hip-hop map. Armed with a monotone mouthpiece, rudimentary rap skills, pimp promo, and arguably the greatest adlib in the history of hip-hop (“beeaatch!”), The Oakland native created a buzz by selling tapes out of the trunk of his car. He would eventually get the attention of Jive Records, where he’d release fourteen projects in a twenty-year span, producing several hits, selling millions of albums, and cementing his legacy as a rap star. Short’s pioneering work would open the door for other Bay Area rappers: MC Hammer, Digital Underground, 2Pac, E40, Da Click, Spice 1, Dru Down, Celly Cel, Del the Funky Homosapien, Souls of Mischief, The Coup, Luniz, and the subject of today’s post, Rappin’ 4-Tay.

Hailing from San Francisco, California, Anthony Forte got his first major exposure on wax in 1988 as a guest on Too-Short’s “Don’t Fight The Feelin’” from his Life Is…Too Short album. Sometime after that, 4-Tay would fall into the street traps that, unfortunately, many young Black males do, and end up serving a ten-month prison stint on drug charges. After regaining his freedom, he returned to the booth and released his debut album, Rappin’ 4-Tay Is Back, on the independent label Rag Top Records in 1991. He’d eventually end up in a deal with Chrysalis, where he’d release his second and third projects (Don’t Fight The Feelin’ and Off Parole, respectively) before landing at Noo Trybe Records, where he delivered his fourth album and the subject of today’s post, 4 Tha Hard Way.

Coming into this review, my only exposure to Rappin’ 4-Tay was his cameos on a couple of Too Short records (see “Don’t Fight The Feelin’” and “Never Talk Down”), his guest appearance on Pac’s “Only God Can Judge Me,” and his “Playaz Club” single off the Don’t Fight The Feelin’ album. But those handful of morsels piqued my interest enough that when I see his albums in the used CD bins for a few dollars, I cop, and here we are today. Let’s jump into it.

Playaz Dedication – The track begins with a clip of Sway interviewing Tupac, who shouts out Rappin’ 4-Tay in the process. Then Les G’s somber synth production comes in for 4-Tay to emote the pain of losing a homie as he analyzes the jealousy and envy that fueled the fire for their early demises. It’s an odd way to start an album, but a solid record, nonetheless.

One Nite – The track starts with the sexiest wah-wah guitar licks I’ve ever heard on a hip-hop record (it’s the perfect motif to hear while a thong and heel-clad SZA stands before you). The beat eventually kicks in, and the wah-wahs remain (though they never sound as tempting as they did during the track’s intro), as 4-Tay spits game to a dame in hopes of a one-night stand. This was some cool player shit that I could appreciate.

Beats 4 Sale (Comm. Short) – Useless skit that sort of sets up the next track.

What’s Wrong Wit The Game – The omission of a question mark at the end of the song title is the artist’s error, not mine. 4-Tay is joined by his fellow Bay Area homeboy, and one of my least favorite overrated rappers, E40. The two swap verses addressing the issues with the rap game, which, in their opinion, boils down to overzealous rappers and producers, like the fella on the previous skit. Lyrically, E-40 sounds decent on this track; it’s his presentation that throws things off (i.e., mush-mouth stutter, sporadic shifting to a sloppy speed flow, and the random Tourette’s-like screams), making him nearly impossible to tolerate. But even if 40 was absent from the record, 4-Tay’s uninspired output and the lackluster instrumental would keep me from coming back to this track.

Money Makes The Man – This one starts with more ultra-wet wah-wah licks (which, even though the liner notes don’t directly credit him, I’m sure are courtesy of G Man Stan). Eventually, Mike City’s semi-drab production (that transitions to melodically enticing when the minor chord progression happens during the hook) comes in for 4-Tay and his guests, J. Mess and Sauce, to plaster with money worship and redundantly superficial player gloats.

Where You Playin’ At – Our host uses a slow-rolling, modestly funky Ant Banks-produced instrumental to show gratitude and brag about all the places and adventures hip-hop has allowed him to experience. It’s not spectacular, but it makes for a solid album cut.

Cold Blooded – If you’re going to remake an artist’s record, no better way to do it than having the artist join you on it. Rick James accompanies Rappin’ 4-Tay on this remake of his early eighties funk classic. 4-Tay’s salivating over some young tender, dropping cliche compliments and corny pick-up lines (the worst being “You’re like a recommended daily allowance”) while Mr. James sings the hook, ad-libs, and pieces of the original record. From the shabby laidback synthy music to James and 4-Tay’s performance, this record was hard to listen to.

Just Came Up – Another skit to set up the next song.

Back At Cha – Ant Banks slides 4-Tay some slick gangsta shit that he uses to warn any would-be perpetrators (bustas, creepers, sticky-fingered muthafuckas, punk bitches, lowdown dirty bastards, suckas, and cops) that if you try to take his, you will feel his heat. And I believe him.

Playa 4 Life – I mentioned earlier that I wasn’t a fan of E40’s rapping, but I absolutely despise Master P’s. Unfortunately, he and 4-Tay go back and forth on this track. The K Lou/Lettrel Evan-produced instrumental was passable, but 4-Tay sounds lackluster, and Master P manages to live up to my expectations.

What Fo’ – 4-Tay uses this one to call for peace, love, respect, and accountability in the streets, and he even calls himself to the floor with a repentant tone on the hook. Reflective 4-Tay, paired with synthesized blues, highlighted by magnificently mournful guitar play, easily makes this one of my favorite joints on 4 Tha Hard Way.

Ain’t Nobody Coachin’ – More playa propaganda, courtesy of Tay and his guest, Franky J. The duo uses Mike City’s Guy’s “Teddy’s Jam” interpolated production to bring attention to the ratio discrepancy of players to coaches, with the moral of the story being: “Don’t call yourself a G if you ain’t helpin’ nobody.” This track should have been left on the cutting room floor.

Brin’ The Beat Back – 4-Tay’s joined by another undeserving crony of his (Lil Fly) as the two split mic time, reminiscing and exchanging bland boasts. At least the fleet-footed guitar plucks in Premiere Music’s backdrop were enjoyable.

Lay Ya Gunz Down – Our host aggressively calls for all brothers to put their guns down and put an end to Black-on-Black violence over G Man Stan’s serious-toned instrumental. Great message, decent record.

The Biggie (Comm. Short) – 4 Tha Hard Way might have the most uninteresting skits in the history of hip-hop albums. Anyway, this one sets up the next song.

The Biggie – Reggae artist, Screwface, joins 4-Tay as the two, fittingly, pass the mic like a blunt and celebrate smoking ganja over a generic reggae riddim credited to The Producer Formally Known As C-Funk (which is a mouthful of an alias). By 1997, weed worship was already an exhausted subject in hip-hop, and this schwag record only makes the topic feel more draining.

Shake It – Al Eaton chefs up a Zapp-esque funk banger (the track also samples Zapp’s “Dance Floor” for its hook) for Tay and The Conscious Daughters, who are ready to party and sweat their collective perms out (Special One (RIP) gets off the sexiest bars of the night when she spits: “But at the party Fo’, I turns into a stank hoe, workin’ that nigga right down to the flo’, and in my limo it’s straight to the mo’, then I shake it”). All three parties give serviceable performances, but the rhymes take a back seat to the track’s stank-face funk and trunk-rattling bass line.

Element Of Surprize – The Producer Formally Known As C-Funk gets his second and final production credit of the night, this time cooking up a mysterious pimped-out space groove. 4-Tay invites a few more of his Bay Area homies (San Quin and Messy Marv) to exchange hustler hood soliloquies. 4-Tay sounds confidently sharp on the song’s final verse, getting off his best bars of the album: “Everybody’s got a hustle, even Bill and Hillary Clinton, shit, the whole White House is pimpin’, explicit lyrics wanted, for cussin’ and discussion that we be bustin’ over percussion, man, we just hustlin’.” This was fire.

Thinking About You – 4-Tay’s looking for a “Queen Nefertiti with all the trimmings” to come live in his castle until death do. G Man Stan reinterprets an early eighties Stevie Wonder record (“All I Do”) for the instrumental while a man named Carl Douglas croons about 4-Tay’s fantasy fem on the hook. For the most part, 4-Tay avoids the banal bars that this type of rap song tends to fall victim to. But C.D.’s singing sounds like a godawful, drunken Stevie Wonder karaoke session.

4-Tha Hardway – “Off parole” and “Fresh up out that Penzolla” (which might be the coolest slang term ever created for prison), our host sounds slightly angry and ready for war, be it rhymes or some real gangsta shit. I wonder if this song was inspired by a specific individual, because 4-Tay sounds sincere and locked in rhyming over the murder mystery-stained backdrop.

The more I do this blog, the more I realize that it takes so much more than just great lyrical ability to make dope records and a good album. One could have the talent to spew ferocious bars with incredible wordplay and tenacity, but still make forgettable records and a dud of an album. Then, there are others that may be lesser lyrically, but possess a special X factor that makes their music intriguing. Insert Rappin’ 4-Tay into the conversation.

Much like his Bay Area contemporary, Too-Short, Rappin’ 4-Tay is far from an upper echelon lyricist (though I would put his rapping skill set a few notches higher than Short’s). But the soft, raspy texture of his vocal tone and his straightforward approach to rhyming make him easy to like, or at least root for. On 4 Tha Hard Way, 4-Tay doesn’t reinvent the content wheel, as he sticks with the traditional West Coast hustler themes of chasing women, chasing money, partying, dissin’ player haters, and players he deems inferior; and of course, he includes a few obligatory hood social commentary records to balance things out. 4-Tay’s formula may not be unique, but unlike most players, you can feel that he genuinely has respect for “the game,” and looks to uphold its integrity (as contradictory as that sounds).

The music on 4 Tha Hard Way is a steady dose of Bay Area funk via immaculate samples and interpolation, synthesized sounds, and live instrumentation with tantalizing guitar riffs as its secret ingredient. With all the different hands in the production pot, surprisingly, the album has a unified sound that works for the most part.

I enjoyed most of the album’s production, and 4-Tay takes off on a few of the album’s tracks, and even when he doesn’t, his soothing vocal tone serves as a raw flute, adding an extra layer to the instrumentation. But there is still absolutely no reason 4 Tha Hard Way should be more than twelve tracks in length. There is not enough variety in subject matter to justify twenty tracks, and the redundancy is only magnified by too many subpar guest appearances. But his two previous albums were both sixteen tracks long, so maybe making long albums is just his forte (*rim shot*).

In the game of craps, “4 the hard way” means betting four and rolling a pair of twos, because it’s harder to do than roll a one-three or a three-one. Since “4 the hard way” is more difficult to hit, it usually pays higher as a prop bet (7-to-1 or 8-to-1), but rolling a three-one would still be a winning bet, just at a lower payout. With his fourth project, Rappin’ 4-Tay bets on himself and fails to roll a pair of twos, but pulls it off by rolling a three-one.

-Deedub
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