United more by strategy than sound, the city's stars are fans-first nonconformists, who have often succeeded by doing the opposite of what the industry deems bankable.

The 305's hedonistic reputation is not unearned, but there is artistry in its debauchery, and a young generation reinvesting the rewards of their predecessors' battles against censorship.

With their 1987 debut album Paid in Full, Eric B. & Rakim introduced internal rhyme schemes to rap, and changed the flow of hip-hop forever.

Cardi B was performing in Las Vegas when a fan threw a drink at her. Concertgoers have thrown objects at musical artists in several highly publicized instances in the past few months.

Isolated at the bottom of the map, the Bayou City had to build its scene from scratch, and its influence inched ever outward. Today you can hear its pulse everywhere, beating slow and low.

They don't say "Detroit Vs. Everybody" for nothing: Dismissed from the outside and splintered within, Michigan's rap cities turned scrap-or-die underdog status into a gritty aesthetic all its own.

Hip-hop is celebrating its 50th anniversary this year. Commentator Kiana Fitzgerald is looking back at the albums that changed the game.

Though defined from the start by outsiders — hip-hop flyover country one day, scrutiny magnet the next — Chicago's poets, brawlers and hustlers remain the last word on what gives the city its soul.

The current rap capital thrives on a thrilling contradiction: Its best music is at once hyperlocal and globally accessible, true to its roots but built for scale.

Summer feels infinite, but also rushed in its impermanence. Roséwave bottles that infinity with a soundtrack that spans generations and genres of music.

Beneath the 8 million stories in the culture's birthplace lies a bigger one: the story of American Blackness, which crystallized in a music that can't and won't stop growing.

In August 1973, an 18-year-old DJ Kool Herc played his sister's back-to-school fundraiser in the rec room of their apartment building. But he and his friends sparked something much bigger.

For years, the relatable Michigan rapper's lore was missing a crucial component: an album. In the lead up to its release, he talked leak culture, becoming a talk-show host and his idea of taste.

The viral tweets were real — it's finally here: one of the most rambunctious experiences at the Tiny Desk.

Faith and religion have been career-long themes for the Run the Jewels rapper — if often in a wary, ambivalent light. But on Michael, his first solo LP in over a decade, something has changed.