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In a 2023 panel at XP Music Futures, Malikah - also known as the queen of Arabic hip hop - talks about when early followers of the culture were called the “yo yo people”. That title may sound ridiculous today, but it made sense to most back then. Hip hop was still under the radar in the MENA region and years away from becoming a space artists could claim, but rejection and cynicism weren’t new to us.
When Ziad Al Rahbani graced us with Lebanese jazz, his genius took listeners by storm because he made Western music speak our language. Kind of like when Rachid Taha fused Raï with rock, making waves among the North African diaspora. Just as these musical innovations were welcomed with awe, the disruption they created also invited criticism. So when hip hop landed in the hands of MENA visionaries, its dismissal as “yo yo” culture revealed how little it was understood.
Yet here we are now, with hip hop thriving as something undeniably ours. How did a genre born in the Bronx become part of our own musical lineage?
The answer partly lies in how contemporary artists reshape the soundscape, layering 808s with darbuka, maqamat, and regional rhythms until the genre sounds more rooted than imported.
- Syrian artist Shams' Ahwak is an intentional tribute to Abdel Halim Hafez that is reminiscent of the tenderness and feminine sway of icons like Warda and Najat Al Saghira, but with contemporary production.
- Egyptian rapper Wegz makes the darbuka prominent in كلام فرسان, evoking traditional Shaabi while the track pulses with modern energy.
- Moroccan artist Khtek's Kiya draws on traditional Moroccan influences, weaving them into a hip hop framework.
- And 3li3bboud doesn't simply layer an 808 beat over traditional instrumentation – he creates a mélange of traditional sounds that fits the complexity of our microtonal maqamat.
This fusion makes sense because hip hop has always been a sonic space for expressing struggle – oppression, economic disparity, injustice – while still making room for love, nostalgia, pride, and hope. This duality makes the genre feel almost native to a region whose history is marked by colonial legacies and ongoing political turbulence.
Besides, the rhythmic nature of rap was bound to resonate in countries where lyricism is inherently poetic and metered. To our generationally-trained ears, MENA rap and hip hop ring the way Zajal, Shaabi, and Raï rang to the generations that came before us.
