10 Reasons You Should Not Become A Rapper

Thinking about a new career? We suggest...well, anything but rapping. A few reasons why becoming a rapper is not the world's wisest career choice.

May 25, 2014

Image via Complex Original

Look at your favorite rapper and all you see is the glory—the chains, the cars, the groupies, the trips overseas, the acclaim from hipster publications. Or maybe you're a dude who's more into it for the principle of the thing: you do it for the art, man. Or the culture.

Well either way, you're in for a tough road. We advise a long, hard look in the mirror. Rapping requires a special set of skills, many of which are entirely out of your control.

This isn't intended to be shots at anyone who chose this life. Obviously, many have succeeded, even when the odds were long. But even more never made it. And even those who did may only have had a few days in the sunlight before life's banal realities set in.

Follow your passions and make money money, but remember that there are other options. Here are ten reasons you don't want that life.

No one sells any more.

First things first: It is not an easy path to financial self-sufficiency. It's a long, arduous road with—especially initially—very small rewards. And as the number of people you have to interface with as an artist increases—managers, road managers, promoters, publicity people, venues, etc.—so decreases your slice of the money pie. Do this for the money, but recognize that you're not gonna get it from releasing albums.

Requires near-delusional levels of self-confidence.

We like to say that rap is all about reality, but really it's the dance between relateable realism and embodying larger, purer gestures. Like comic book heros, rappers are a kind of superhero, mastering words and/or violence and/or narratives to create an effect of unremitting power. Of course, the person behind these gestures is still human, but on stage, he's larger than life.

The kind of otherworldy self-confidence required of a rapper isn't just about mastering stage fright, but a kind of scalding honesty—picture Eminem's final battle in 8 Mile, where he's got to demolish himself first in order to stab at someone else. Being at center stage and believing in oneself, when all of your flaws are evident for all to see, is a pretty terrifying act. It's unsurprising that, under the weight of the stage lights, so many artists end up chasing drug problems or are unable to deliver under the pressure.

One artist who has managed to sustain at the top—Jay Z—has a preternatural bulletproof persona that sustains simply because his humanness never really leaks out.

For some reason, it's unlikely to save you from prison.

This could be read as pretty meanspirited; the prison industrial complex in this country is no joke, and is just trying to trip people up. But as many times as rappers or their PR flacks might try to sell hip-hop as a chance to get out of the game and do something positive, the police don't seem to care too much about your artistic worth. Plenty of our favorite rappers find themselves ensnared in legal trouble for crimes both serious and overblown. In fact, your music could even end up being used against you.

Timing is of the utmost importance...and largely out of your control.

Being a great rapper is part of it. Looking the part. Having an understanding for business.

But most of all, there's a whole lotta luck.

Timing is the one thing you can't control, and its arbitrary nature is as important to your success as a rapper as any other. The only way to ward off bad timing is to create an audience that will engage with you no matter what. An element of Macklemore's success was certainly luck—he had the right single at the right time. He certainly didn't expect it to be the national phenomenon it became. But he made sure he was in the right position to capitalize off of it when it did come, with an invested fanbase that will always be there, even if his next album flops on a mainstream level.

In an artform as trend-hungry as hip-hop, it's nearly impossible to age gracefully.

What happens to a rapper when he hits middle age? You've probably pictured Dr. Dre, LL Cool J, or Jay Z. Maybe Scarface or Nas.

But now picture...well, any other rapper from the 1990s, today. What are they doing? Where's their income coming from? How are they maintaining in the limelight? When's the last time they even saw the limelight?

Hip-hop is a young man's game, with a few older soldiers whose styles or business practices have maintained some kind of presence in the culture—often by transitioning out of music. If you do commit to rapping, it's not a bad idea to have a backup plan.

Because you'll need cartoon-sized body parts or a wardrobe like this to get a deal...

Being a rap star isn't just the craft of writing, nor is it just the craft of performing. It's not the craft of songwriting, of rapping, or looking good doing it. It's all this and more. Hip-hop is—when it comes to the shit that really pops off—a holistic art. This is our way of saying, sorry—you gotta look the part. This doesn't necessarily mean you have to hit the gym (although it certainly couldn't hurt—50 Cent was rumored to have shelved M.O.P. because the duo wouldn't get into shape) but it does mean you have to play the part.

There are easier ways to get into acting.

There was a time when every rapper seemed more interested in acting. It's worked pretty well for a handful of stars—Ice Cube, Queen Latifah, and Mos Def have all manged to mature to a Hollywood career. But the shortest route between two points is a straight line—if you like acting, try acting. Everyone isn't Will Smith.

You might still be getting called "Young MC" when you're 47.

Not to pick on Young MC, who bravely hit the stage in 2002 to compete on Weakest Link and managed to give as good as he got with host Anne Robinson. Because this is a problem for every artist. Rappers tend to get into the game when they're young, and like a tattoo, the name you chose tends to stick with you. No matter how many pounds he loses, Fat Joe will never be Joe. You can return to civilian life, but the name your boys gave you in the high school cafeteria is gonna be in your obituary column one day.

The most reliable financial path involves nonstop touring, forever.

Although 360 deals are also making inroads into this line of revenue, for an artist, touring has been (alongside merch) one of the bastions of a sustained career. Nowadays, with record sales plummeting, touring has become even more important than ever, the key to building a reliable, loyal fanbase—and to putting cash in your pocket.

Touring is also really hard. It's a nonstop grind, travelling from city to city to put on the same show, night after night. It's all unhealthy food, too-accessible drugs, an exhausting schedule, and relentless hustle. Never mind that if you're not at the top of the heap, you're likely to deal with shady promoters and all the pitfalls of the business end. And due to the increasing reliance on touring, this isn't something that lets up once you're safely in your late 20s; if you're like the average rapper, dependence on touring becomes more essential, as you move further from the zeitgeist/potential ringtone sales. (Why do you think most artists try to kickstar their own labels?)