Picture me, a pre-teen from Harlem, New York that is accustomed to hearing thick, Brooklyn accents and hard-hitting beats bleeding through my speakers, moving to Atlanta. At the time, in mid-90s, there was a Hip-Hop renaissance of sorts happening in the South, namely Atlanta. Musicians like Goodie Mob, Outkast, Joi, and Mista brought a gritty funk and a different type of southern hospitality than what Hip-Hop fiends were used to. The tracks were slow, the synths were thicker as if fried in oil, and the rhymes were looser and easier to digest like they were sautéed in gravy. Southern Hip-Hop would put Atlanta on the map and change Hip-Hop music for forever.
Southerners might like for things to be slowed down, chopped, and screwed, but time moves fast, regardless. Sometimes, it can seemingly move too fast, where people can’t remember how they even got positioned where they are. Atlanta, as a musical city, definitely fell victim to that syndrome. Enter in the southern hip-hop duo, Supreme INK. Whether the production is funky and instrument driven or space-age and ethereal, Supreme INK’s music is always a homage to that southern resurrection that birthed so much without sounding redundant which was their plan since starting in music. Kosher says, “We had a couple classes together. We didn’t start making music together until senior year though [...] we both made beats for years and years before then.” As bold of a statement as it is, Supreme INK is reinventing what it is to be a southern rapper while still taking cues from the ones that came before them. “We grew up during a southern renaissance of sorts. Outkast and the rest of the D.F., 3-6, and the rest of Hypnotized Camp, and even No Limit’s more classic material are big influences on the raps we rap and the beats we make”, Kosher, one half of the duo explains. If I failed to mention before these pioneers of vintage southern rap are comprised of not the most likely of candidates. One is Lazy Mane, a tall and lanky young black man. The other is Kosher Beets, an equally as tall but broader shaped Jewish 20-something.

Not the likely suspects to usher in this new old sound. Their newest effort, “Sell It To Me For Free”, is just as unexpected. “Mm, I suppose it is a representation of our artistic lives between the time we put out “HowDoThisHappen??” and now. Sonically, it’s a little more striped down than some of the busier tracks we rapped on before, so take from that what you will.” “Sell it To Me For Free” is indeed more stripped than Supreme INK’s other efforts, leaving room for the lyrics. Kosher and Lazy have the most intricate flows that complement each other so effortlessly that hasn’t been heard since Outkast. Lazy Mane explains, “We write our own lyrics, so once you have some inspiration and a concept it’s really smooth sailing from there.” Kosher adds, “My shit always comes from the beat itself. Sometimes, I sit and listen for hours before I think of something interesting I want to say on that shit, and not to mention a way of saying it.” You’d think there might be some confrontation between the two, but their collaborations are effortless. “We usually don’t make music together, per say. [We] usually write and make beats on our own time, and with songs coming from all directions, plus from our own individual musings. It’s the variety in the process that ensures a well-rounded experience for both us and the listener. “
Supreme INK is always putting the listener first. From quirky tales about being the last white man on earth to marijuana-laden voyages that remind them of yesterdays, Supreme INK is constantly pushing the envelope of southern rap while still paying homage to where they came from. Supreme INK is prepping their new album, “”Player / Coach Bill Russell and Logo Jerry West”. It’s sure to be a travel in the future while simultaneously being a history lesson of southern music’s past, as is the meaning of Supreme INK’s existence in the hip-hop world.

~ by Myles E. Johnson