It is purely coincidental that rap’s rise coincided with the sudden affordability of the answering machine. By 1991, two out of every five households had one. That was also the year N.W.A’s Niggaz4Life became the first hardcore rap album to top the Billboard 200 chart. Fittingly, the album featured a string of answering machine messages that would incite one of rap’s greatest blood feuds.

Rap has a long history dealing with phones as a medium, from recorded calls to wiretaps to verses recorded as voice memos from prisons. As answering machines swept the nation, they began to shape the way rap sounded. Early examples like De La Soul’s 1991 cut “Ring Ring Ring” used the them as a storytelling device, without even using any actual recordings. Eventually the recordings themselves became the backbones for rap songs—and it’s easy to see why. There’s something quite genuine about them—an unprepared statement is often the most honest. Even when premeditated, there’s an inherent intimacy to these private moments between two people. Sharing one almost feels like an intrusion.

As answering machines were replaced with inboxes, the idea behind usage remained essentially the same. The nature of any messaging system is malleable depending on purpose, so it makes sense that voicemails have been used to suit a variety of needs in rap. Whether off-the-cuff or staged, they carry many possibilities in song. What follows is a guide to rap voicemails with six of the most popular templates.

Narrative Building: Isaiah Rashad - “where u at?” // Kendrick Lamar’s good kid, m.A.A.d. city skits

Some rap albums use voicemails as a storytelling apparatus that can lead in and out of songs or can tie an entire project together with a unified theme. These messages are integral to the story the album tells. Top Dawg Entertainment co-president Dave Free appears throughout Isaiah Rashad’s The Sun’s Tirade as a nagging label voice pushing the rapper to drop the record. Rashad has been very open about his struggles with drug dependence and how it nearly derailed his career, which are major themes on Tirade. Free is a pestering reminder of this for the listener, shaping the overall flow of the album. On opener “where u at?” he sets a deadline: “You got until Friday; I’m not asking no more.” The remaining check-ins are friendlier, but routine.

The voicemail skits on Kendrick Lamar’s good kid, m.A.A.d. city operate in a different capacity. Instead of being windows outside the album, working as a framing device, they are set-ups that dive deeper into the album’s epic tale. As he’s riding around in pursuit of Sherane, his mother keeps calling to ask when he plans to return the van.

Myth Building: Dr. Dre - “Fuck You” // Drake - “How Bout Now” // Eminem - “Paul Rosenberg”

There are several instances in the rap canon where artists have used voice recordings as a means of building their legends or bolster their brands. This can take many forms: publicly flexing on others, using private correspondences to dramatize a rep, or simply adding another vessel for powerful co-signs (i.e. Timbaland siding with Dre over Jermaine Dupri on Eminem’s “Say What You Say”). Among his most petty offerings, Drake’s “How Bout Now” opens with a voicemail from an ex chastising him for going Hollywood on her before he pulls flexes directly from Mike Jones’ “Back Then” playbook. On Dre’s “Fuck You,” a woman leaves a message proclaiming her love for the future rap mogul. “I’d do anything/ I’ll be your perfect woman for you,” she says, building his image as a lothario. Eminem veers dramatically in another direction. In a staged voicemail from his manager on “Paul Rosenberg,” he’s asked to stop shooting his gun off at the studio, further creating the perception he’s a free-wheeling anarchist.

Family Business: Drake - “Can’t Have Everything” + “Look What You’ve Done” // Mac Miller - “God Speed” // G-Eazy - “Opportunity Cost”

If voicemails chronicle our missed connections, then it’s only natural for those closest to us to not only turn up in them, but for those very personal messages to make their way into songs about feeling detached from relatives. Voicemails from family members have become staples for tribute records that evaluate the pricelessness of these relationships, particularly in light of the trust issues sparked by fame. This has become the most conventional use of voicemail in contemporary rap, sparked in large part by Drake, who is in many ways a master of the form.

Take Care’s “Look What You’ve Done” was an ode to the family figures who shaped Drake: his mom, his grandmother, and his uncle. The song concludes with a voicemail from his grandmother, who waxes nostalgic about their time together when he was young. More recently, on “Can’t Have Everything,” his mother appears, worrying about the negative energy he’s giving off and advising him to be less confrontational in his tone. “When others go low, we go high,” she says. These are views into Drake’s past and present from the voices who not only sway his actions but molded his very character.

Other rappers have followed suit. In between the transition on Mac Miller’s “Perfect Circle / God Speed” rests a voicemail from his brother that sets up the second act. Miller has since revealed that the voicemail is from a dark time in his life, which his brother was trying to help him through. The verse that follows is a raw retelling of that time, set in motion by his brother’s call. G-Eazy’s “Opportunity Cost” is on the other end of the spectrum. He laments his ability to keep in touch, but in the end, his mother grants her seal of approval, telling him how proud she is. These flourishes, though small, are far from insignificant—they’re relatable.

Backstories: Kendrick Lamar - “FEAR.” // Beastie Boys - “Three MCs and One DJ” // “A Message from Yasiin Bey”

On more than a few occasions, rappers have used voicemails to provide important context for their work. Often these can be clearer than lyrics but more stirring than straight-up explanations. On his new album, DAMN., Kendrick Lamar’s epic track “FEAR.” and a voicemail from his cousin Carl become crucial to the listener’s understanding of the entire record. His message quotes the Bible verse Deuteronomy 28:28 and supplies a glimpse into the teachings of Hebrew Israelites, which heavily influence the album’s takes on race and religion.

In a different vein, a voicemail like DJ Mix Master Mike’s on Beastie Boys’ “Three MC’s and One DJ” explains why a song even exists in the first place. In the voicemail, Mike plays some music for MCA, “wanting to hook up ... on some tracks,” which inevitably led to the group featuring the DJ on the Hello Nasty cut.

An outlier is an actual voicemail message delivered by Kanye West from Yasiin Bey, who had been detained in South Africa when his visitor’s visa expired. After rapping lyrics to a remix of Kanye’s “No More Parties in LA,” he provided a lengthy summation of his situation. In it, he announces his retirement from rap. The voicemail stands on its own as a rap artifact.

Warning Shots: N.W.A - “Message to B.A.” // Snoop Dogg - “Pimp Slapp’d”

When Ice Cube left N.W.A, he was treated like a traitor to the cause. An interlude on the group’s sophomore album called “Message to B.A.” cycled through a series of answering machine messages featuring random callers taking aim at the Compton rapper. “No matter how hard you try to be, here’s what they think about you,” Dre opened, leaving it to the callers to make his statement for him. The interlude sparked one of rap’s most storied feuds.

A soon-to-be Dre affiliate, Snoop Dogg, would later use voice messages to slander his one-time Death Row label boss Suge Knight. “Pimp Slapp’d,” a diss aimed at Suge and one-time Dogg Pound member Kurupt, is appended with a message from a former friend telling Snoop to “expose” Suge. “That nigga ain’t never been to the streets,” he snipes. It was a brutal disposal of a once-proud enforcer who’d built a career on word of his intimidation tactics. The man on the phone later sued Snoop for using the voicemail, saying it created a threat to his life.

Remembrances: The Roots - “Can’t Stop This” // Drake - “Marvins Room”

It isn’t uncommon to save a voicemail to remember someone. These preserved messages can often reconnect us with someone we’ve lost, or even more specifically, a certain feeling. Drake’s “Marvins Room” is a tribute to this power, where an old message awakens memories of long-gone moments shared together. The lyrics play out an old phone call in motion with Drake trying to convince a former lover to leave her current boyfriend so they can get back together.

Through those means, voicemails are mementos of our pasts, but voicemails themselves can be rousing appreciations of someone who has passed. The remembrances on the Roots’ “Can’t Stop This” are recorded in tribute to J. Dilla. Black Thought opens the proceedings before a host of messages roll through, fittingly over Dilla’s “Time: The Donut of the Heart.” It is a wonderful eulogy for their friend, one of the all-time great producers.

The song has an added significance due to the role answering machines in the long-standing musical relationship between Dilla and Questlove. When D’Angelo got his hands on Slum Village’s Fantastic, Vol. 1, Questlove had him play several of the songs through cassette onto his answering machine. While on tour in Europe, Questlove would call his machine just to hear them. Voicemails, in many ways, operate the way songs do: they carry imprints of memories and feelings. When these two mediums cross paths, they can create powerful sensations.