When I first arrived in Los Angeles in 1990, I was constantly asked whether I intended to study hip hop's influence on black youth. Women who participated in my research asked why I wasn't studying “what the kids are doing?” And students would offer, without any urging from me, “What you need to be doing is studying hip hop.” But since I already had a research agenda, and thought urban youth language had been over-emphasized, I tried to ignore their advice. In frustration, I contacted Ben Caldwell, an established filmmaker who owned a studio – Video 3333/KAOS Network – in the Leimert Park section of Los Angeles. I thought he would direct me to a youth program that dealt with language and art. Instead, he matter-of-factly said, “Why don't you check-out freestyle hip hop at Project Blowed on Thursday nights here at KAOS Network.”

I canvassed many youth and hip hop devotees before I finally ventured into underground hip hop at Project Blowed – and I had both expectations and anxieties. I knew that the Thursday night crowd was usually filled with hip hop aficionados and regulars who were intolerant of weak, unimaginative rhymers, along with neophyte onlookers and hangers-on who knew little about hip hop culture. And I had already received the word on the distinctive rap style used by Project Blowed.