Rap fans who complain about how they miss the days when rap was overrun with true gangsters are like hipsters who say they miss the old New York back when it was "gritty." (FYI: Those people are stupid. The bad old days of New York before Giuliani were fucking awful.) Danger has a certain appeal in theory—we guess?—but ultimately, no one really wants to get stabbed at a Jeezy show.
As Rick Ross's career has proven, street cred only goes so far. The most important thing is whether or not your records are good, not if you're a card-carrying thug. Everyone cracking jokes about "I remember when rap beef got real," and so on, needs to remember that it got too real: Tupac and Biggie are dead. That might make for a good legend about how fucking gangsta they were, sure, but we wish they were alive more than anything else. We wish Max B wasn't in jail. There's an entire laundry list of events we wish never happened that we can only shake our heads at. No matter what you say about "who's real" remember this: Bad behavior often ruins a good time.