Above: Shy Glizzy by Ryan Lyons

Over the past couple of years, Washington D.C.'s rap scene has produced a handful of artists that, just 10 years ago, would have had no blueprint on how to make it from the District. Up-and-comers like Fat Trel, Shy Glizzy, Yung Gleesh, Lightshow and others have made moves to build D.C. into an area with regional allure and mainstream potential—both of which are completely new for the city. And though there has yet to be a rapper who properly represents D.C.’s inner city, each of the aforementioned artists are jockeying for who that first one will be. In his hometown anthem "I Am D.C.”, the forthright Glizzy calls out rappers who don’t properly represent the city: “Niggas don’t dress like they from here/ Niggas don’t act like they from here/ They don’t got swag like they from here.” While whom the statement was aimed towards can be explored, the most important takeaway is that, no one outside of D.C. can put a face to any of those standards.

Much like the neighboring Baltimore with club music, D.C.’s urban musical identity has never been rap, but a more city-specific form of music, in this case Go-Go—a percussion-heavy derivative of funk. Starting in the early '70s, bands usually made up of kids from the same neighborhood would come together, head to a local club and jam out, even if they had to create instruments out of crates, pots and pans as The JunkYard Band—whose The Word/Sardines 12” LP was released by Def Jam in 1986— did when they formed in the early ‘80’s. And despite its local acclaim and production of regional superstars like the late Chuck Brown and Backyard Band founder turned actor on The Wire, Anwan Glover, Go-Go has created few national success stories, leading the city’s youth to look elsewhere for their ticket.

In early 2007, D.C. native, Tabi Bonney, hit the national radar when the video for his debut track “The Pocket” (a term used to describe a percussionist’s extended solo groove) started getting regular airtime on MTV Jams. While Bonney was establishing his silky smooth persona, Wale took hold of the backpacker types in the area, with rap more focused on regional sounds, lyrical prowess and a brand that was most active online. “Wale came up on the Internet when you could actually get put on by the internet, you know?” says D.C. area native and curator of the D.C.-based Trillectro Music Festival, Modi Oyewole via email. “He didn't have go the street route. Trel and Glizzy don’t have the co-signs like Mark Ronson and pics of them at Hollywood events.”

Being “put on by the internet” harkens back to something else that Tabi and Wale had in their favor that their successors do not: the opportunity to be grouped into the now-faded “blog rap” scene of the late 2000s. That, and the beginnings of a branding scheme to group surrounding parts of Maryland and Northern Virginia with D.C. called “The DMV”, which has proven over time to still be more of a benefit to the District. With underground rap currently going in more of street rap and trap direction, it’s no surprise that D.C.’s most promising artists fit that mold.

Though his background is not of the streets, Wale is still credited as the first person to crack the code of rap success in the District. “Even though he was raised outside of the city, Wale has been able to create hope for that inner-city kid in D.C.,” says Tony Lewis Jr during a phone conversation. A youth advocate in the city who helps ex-offenders find employment and bridges gaps between local rappers, Lewis sees the immediate effect the city’s burgeoning artists have on its youth. “Rap wasn’t even a conversation a little more than five years ago. It was all Go-Go. Now you have Glizzy who’s from 37th St, Trel’s from Benning Rd. and Lightshow’s from 10th Place; These are real places where people don’t make it out,” Lewis explains. “They make people feel like they can do something too because it’s so relatable.”