The first rap album that I saw under the "New Releases" section of Spotify when I got home from jail was Future's 'I Never Liked You' which felt like a fitting and symbolic way to wrap up my life of crime. I had become enthralled with the rapper's music in my 20s, focusing on how he glamorized drug dealing and trafficking, taking his music a little too literally. The immediate standout from the album was "Chickens," the twinkling hightempo cut that described drug dealing over a beat that made it sound like you were being chased by aliens.
The song inevitably sent me on a mission to deep dive into EST Gee, the gruff and menacing rapper who made it very clear in all of his music that he had no soul. His catalog was extensive and his rough around the edges lyrics portrayed the politics and mental calculations involved in conducting business through street conflicts, where it's not just about numbers and routes, but also remembering who said what to whom. The most interesting thing to me about EST Gee, outside of his bizarre friendship with Jack Harlow, was how brazenly he talked about selling fentanyl.
There’s always been a dark side to rap, but in the past it would at least be shined to a glossy matte black. Rapping about fentanyl stripped that finish off faster than acid. EST Gee wasn’t the only one talking about the elephant tranquilizer. Jay Z would mention the drug as part of his rambling verse on “God Did” later in 2022, clumsily playing with the drug’s name and Rihanna’s clothing brand. Personal favorites of mine, like Pengz and Northside Benji, also made allusions to how much money can be made in the fetty trade.
But unlike drugs like lean, percocets, and xanax, fentanyl was only being mentioned as a way to collect wealth. Nobody rapped about DOING fentanyl, just about how much money they could make from selling it. It remarkably became the most sought-after drug in the culture, yet it wasn't mirrored in the cultural output. Fentanyl has become the capitalism totem of choice for rappers, most of whom have offered songs about Sigma Grindset Mindstate tropes way before everyone on TikTok wanted to be Gary Vee.
When I was in jail, I saw firsthand how much time the criminal justice system slaps down on offenders who are involved in any measure of the drug. Fentanyl and Carfentanyl, which is apparently worse by an order of many dead elephants, are dealt with in the harshest terms. I also saw just how lucrative the practice of shipping it was, as individuals who serviced different parts of the supply chain would network in the yard and discuss ports and prices.
There’s essentially three parts to a drug trafficking operation: Door, Store, and Transport. The door is what you use to get the drugs into a country, the transport is how you do it, and the store is who you sell them to once they’re in. If you can fulfill even one of those requirements, you will find your tribe soon enough. Fentanyl is a drug that could only exist in our modern neoliberal era of globalization where it can make its way from China to a shipping container in New Jersey partly owned by Fetty Wap in a matter of weeks. It’s a potent opioid, and people with drug addictions I’ve spoken to tell me it’s the best feeling they ever had. One man, who described doing heroin as “an injection of warm hugs and rainbows” said that he couldn’t even put fentanyl into words.
The closest fentanyl use has come to popular culture was in season one of ‘Euphoria’ where Rue does the drug and says it’s the best high she’s ever felt. If something is so blissful that it escapes the description of not just a simple prison junkie, but Sam Levinson himself, why does the creative community avoid building on it? What is it about fentanyl that makes it so unsexy?
The simple answer is probably the same reason meth culture was never a thing: Because ugly white middle American types are those most commonly associated with the drug. But even then you had Breaking Bad, which is a generational TV show based around meth in middle America. Even Yelawolf and MGK were able to tap into the energy of meth culture, despite never fully embracing it outside of the general aesthetic. Also, unlike meth, the general public doesn’t have to fear a random stranger doing fentanyl and falling asleep in the street in the way they’d have to be on alert for a meth head jumping up from behind the dumpster where he was taking apart a clock radio.
Lean, or promethazine cough syrup, had a historic run that touched on every rapper from the days of Pimp C all the way to the modern day, where brand loyalty actually plays a part as rappers shout out the “wockhardt” label. Molly and Ecstacy were similarly romanticized in songs, mostly as an aphrodisiac. Marijuana damn near runs rap culture, its presence all but expected in a rapper’s lifestyle and its tendrils reaching into every brand around rap from DatPiff to Rolling Loud. Cocaine and crack era raps were driven by the same engine of exploiting an addiction for profit, but at least featured enough remorse in the rapper's lyrics to give the lifestyle around the drug some texture. Fentanyl is only talked about in entrepreneurial terms, like it’s the hottest new item to dropship on Shopify.
The reader here may say that I’m obfuscating the border between rap music and pop culture, to which I’d reply that I don’t even know the meaning of the word obfuscating. But for all intents and purposes, rap culture has always been the Developmental/Gatorade League of pop culture and that hasn’t changed despite the globalization of culture. It may have even intensified, as the funnel from rap trope to mainstream is about as short as the attention span of the average TikToker. All vibes kind of mesh together, especially now.
The more complicated answer about fentanyl’s lack of cultural force is probably tied up around murky terms that nobody wants to discuss. Statistically, the problem affects so many people that the chances are that most people are too scared to fully embrace it seeing the damage it can do to a person and a community. There’s probably some Sinophobia involved that would require asking how the CIA let their grip on cocaine importing be overtaken to begin with (unless of course they’re involved with the fetty too) and even maybe some unwanted navel gazing by the American public into the Sackler family’s ability to get everyone hooked on opioids. But glorifying the drug in any way might be seen as glamorizing a pandemic.
The rap industry's fascination with fentanyl as a source of profit is a stark contrast to the lack of representation of the drug in popular culture. It's unclear why the creative community has avoided exploring the topic in depth, but as the line between rap and pop culture continues to blur it's important to ask why fentanyl is the outlier. I’m not saying that I want EST Gee to suck on a fentanyl lollipop, or for Future to normalize slapping a fentanyl patch on his upper arm. I just think it says a lot about us as a society that we’ve gotten to the point where selling poison for the sake of profit has leaked into the very foundation of culture, and it’s important to ask if we’re okay with that.
