“They had stores with all the clothes, the sneakers, the jewelry,” he said. “It was a good place to go and talk to girls. The whole pace was electric, and where there is electricity, there’s fun. And where there’s fun, that’s where kids want to be.”

In a way, Mr. Walters said, all the neighborhoods were the same: places where young people entranced by an emerging culture took their shots at fame. Some with cans of spray paint wound up in galleries. Others with dazzling footwork danced on the world’s stages. As for the young Mr. Walters, he became a storyteller, with hits like “Children’s Story” and “The Show” with Doug E. Fresh.

“Ricky thinks of himself as a storyteller and that’s apt,” said Bill Adler, a former executive at Def Jam Records, which released his recordings. “It was pioneering because he was so writerly, I call it rap lit. Ricky was conscious early on about the possibilities of rap.”

A few decades on, those possibilities have become middle-class accomplishments. With his earnings, Mr. Walters bought two three-family houses, living in one apartment and renting out the rest. In one corner of his home stands a mannequin, decked out in the Slick Rick stage outfit: a crisp Kangol cap, thick gold chains, huge medallions and custom-painted Adidas sneakers.

So iconic are those accessories that Mr. Walters and his wife have donated about a dozen items from his collection to the Smithsonian National Museum of African American History and Culture. His wife beamed. He, on the other hand, was subdued. He spoke about politics and society, segueing into an analysis of how hip-hop stagnated and went astray.

“Hip-hop disrupted the order of things,” he said. “It was the pulpit, and if you put the right person in front of the pulpit, they can speak for the youth of the planet. Instead, it was altered and diluted. What you see now are performers who have been broken to fit into a mold. They are not going to disrupt the order of things.”

Mr. Walters is hardly broken. And he is comfortable not just with what he has accomplished, but with what music still lies ahead. Above all, having just turned 50, he is content.

“I don’t feel like I’m 50,” he said. “I don’t talk like a 50-year-old person. Sometimes miserable old people depend on happy young people to give them a sense of purpose. Not me. Of course not!”