Tone Glow 146: Spice 1

An interview with the legendary Bay Area rapper about his father's poetry, meeting Too $hort, his love for reggae, and considering Houston a second home.

Spice 1

All photos courtesy of the artist

Spice 1 (b. 1970) is a legendary Bay Area rapper. Born Robert Lee Greene Jr., Spice 1 first became interested in rapping after watching Ice-T in the 1980s movies Breakin’ and Rappin’. As a teenager, he would be taken under Too $hort’s wing and join the Dangerous Crew. He would sign to Jive Records and release six albums under the label throughout the 1990s, including Spice 1 (1992), 187 He Wrote (1993), AmeriKKKa’s Nightmare (1994), and 1990-Sick (1995). Afterwards, he would continue to release a slew of solo and collaborative records. His newest album, titled Platinum O.G. 2, is out today. Joshua Minsoo Kim spoke with Spice 1 on May 2nd, 2024 via Zoom to discuss his fallout from Jive Records, how he was influenced by reggae, meeting Tupac Shakur, and his love for swords.

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Joshua Minsoo Kim: How’s your day been?

Spice 1: Man, I’m good. I just woke up from a nap. I gotta take that OG nap, y’know what I’m sayin’? You don’t take that OG nap at 12 or 1 o’clock, you’re not gonna make it to 9 (laughter). You gotta get that extra energy.

I saw online that you were born in Corsicana, Texas. How long were you there for?

I was born in Bryan, Texas. College Station. Texas A&M, that area. It’s about 100 miles outside of Houston. I don’t think I even turned one year old before I got to California. And we was living in Oakland.

I wanted to ask about your family. I know your dad was a poet and that his dad was a poet, too. Did you grow up reading or hearing your father’s poetry when you were a kid? Was that a thing he would do?

Yeah, he’d show me his poems. His poetry was kind of like my raps. He was really militant (laughs). He would speak at Black Panther events sometimes. He would go to the Uhuru House in East Oakland and speak while I would be getting my haircut down the street. First time he showed me some poetry he was like, “I wrote a poem, I want you to hear it.” We were in the car and I was in the passenger seat. I don’t even remember the whole poem but I remember him starting off (in a loud, authoritative voice) “N****s die! N****s think they fly, n****s gon’ die tryin’ be cool.” When he said this I was like, okay, pops is crazy (laughter). I’m in the car trying not to laugh and he’s just like, “N****s die!” and I’m like, oh shit, if I laugh I’d be in trouble. Like, this n**** crazy! (laughter).

His poetry was very militant and he may have written other poems but it was crazy when he showed me that one. It was dope, though. When I got older, that’s what I seen. And you probably seen it too. N****s out here dying, and not just Black dudes. People. N****s. People are out here dying tryin’ to be cool. They gon’ be too busy looking good—when death come, they ain’t even gon’ know. What’s that song? “Imma be fly when the feds watch” or something like that.

That’s 2 Chainz. “Feds Watching.”

Yeah. Basically, my dad was tellin’ me, pay attention to this shit. Don’t walk around thinkin’ you the shit. Pay attention to what’s around you. You gon’ be too busy trying to look good when death come. It had a message to it—I just caught the message years later.

How old were you when he said the poem in the car?

I was probably nine (laughs). Shout out to pops. Real smart dude, real intelligent man. He showed me a lot. Shout out to Robert Greene Sr.

Did you know your grandfather? He wrote poems, too.

I didn’t know he wrote poems until my dad told me, and then my sisters, my cousins do spoken word. It was amazing to know that. My sisters and cousins do spoken word and they’re really good too.

Older or younger?

Older sister.

What was it like growing up in the Greene household?

My dad and mom split up when I was two or three, and when I was nine or ten years old, my mom remarried and I got my crazy-ass step-dad. My real dad lived in Oakland and we lived in Hayward. And it was like how Boyz n the Hood (1991) was. My dad had the same orange Volkswagen convertible. The same car. And he would act exactly how Tre’s dad act. He was like that to a T. That was Robert Greene Sr.! He’d come get me in the orange Volkswagen and I would come from Hayward to Oakland. I’d see my homeboys from Oakland and, just like Tre, I’d be waitin’ for dad to go in the house so I could play. They’d be like, “Chico! What’s up man!” And my dad would always say exactly what Tre’s dad said: “Wash my car and rake them leaves up before you start playing.” The same shit! When I saw that movie, it was like the spitting image of how my father and me were.

My sister, I would try to show her my raps and she’d be like, “That shit wack, n****! Get that shit outta here!” If I could impress an older female like my sister, then I could impress anybody. But she was just saying that shit was wack even if it was dope. She said she wanted to make me better by telling me my shit was wack. And it was like, okay… it worked (laughter).

Did she ever give approval?

“187 Proof,” my first single—she was loving that. She was like, “Shit, well I couldn’t write like that. That was cool.” That song was a blessing to me because it raised a lot of eyebrows and turned a lot of heads my way.

You had this family who were into the arts, and I know that your dad showed you The Last Poets, too. How old were you when you started rapping? I know you were in the Dangerous Crew in high school, but when did it all begin?

I used to breakdance, and I was in my little breakdancing crew. We was hip-hop. We’d sneak out at night and spray paint our group name on the side of the BART trains. We’d sneak on the BART like we was from New York. We’d hop on the train from Hayward to San Francisco and go to Pier 39 and we would breakdance our way to some real good money. Next thing you know, we got two or three thousand dollars in the hat, we’d split it between all of us, and we’d be on our way back home. Eventually, I seen Ice-T in the movie Breakin’ (1984). He was on stage singing the song “Killers.” [Editor’s Note: This specific scene is from the 1985 movie Rappin’]. “Killers! Bloodthirsty killers!”

I was watching him and I was like, that’s dope, I wanna do that. Give me the motherfuckin’ mic and let me talk my shit! After I seen that I was like, man, Imma write some raps and I showed it to a few people and I kept on doing it. The next thing you know, I was standing up in front of crowds. I remembered all my songs and I was just gettin’ it. I had to tell my little breakdancing crew, hey, I probably won’t be doing this no more, I’m on the microphone now. And that was it. This was around 1986 I think. It was a lot going on. Hip-hop hit the nation real tough, real big. Crack hit the nation real big. Gangs hit the nation real big. Around that time, I felt like I was developing my style, so by the time ’90 came in, “187 Proof” was out. I couldn’t even buy alcohol back then.

What memories do you have of being in that breakdancing crew? Does anything stand out?

It gave me a sense of being on a team. Baseball and basketball is the same thing. When you’re in a breakin’ crew, you’re on a team and help each other make different moves, make up different stuff, and it shows you how to work with other people and get something accomplished. We was good. We won some trophies! We were called Video Numbers.

We was kind of crazy. I remember we were in a battle at the mall against Planet Poppers or something—I can’t remember the name. We had a big crowd and we was one of the hottest groups out there. We was hitting our moves and then we got into it with these dudes. A fight broke out and everything calmed down and I did a few moves and stepped out. I see my homie to the left and he’s like, “Come here!” I go over to him and he’s like, “I got a stolen car outside!” And I was like, “For real?” We go outside, I hop in the car. I’m not thinkin’. I’m on one. We’re in the parking lot of the mall in a stolen car doing doughnuts. We burnin’ that muthafucka (laughter). Figure eights and all that! I just remember hearing skrrrt and us laughing real hard and then the police got behind us. We parked the car, hopped out, and ran back into the mall and tried to mix in with the rest of the crowd. And it worked. I was like, wow, they’re probably looking for our group, we better take these hats off (laughter). Those years, everything was a learning experience. The bad shit and the good shit made me who I am today.

What’s the good shit that comes to mind immediately?

Definitely when I met Too $hort’s manager, Randy Austin, through some friends at school. N-Tice and Barbie of the Danger Zone, who are on “Don’t Fight the Feelin’”, were my friends. When you keep good relations with people, you never know what can happen or who they know or how they may be able to help. I knew this girl and we were kickin’ it and we both switched schools at the same time and she was like, “I heard you rap, my uncle is Too $hort’s manager.” I was like, “Oh shit, I been knowin’ you for years, I didn’t know that.” I was always cool with her. When $hort would come pick me up from school, he’d pick them up too and we’d all be in the car ride. It taught me a lot as far as building relationships with people. Shit, you never know what you gon’ get when you don’t burn bridges. Shout out to the Danger Zone. Those are my homegirls.

Do you remember the first time you met Too $hort and what that was like? How were you feeling?

It was Randy callin’ me on the phone and he was like, “What’s your name? MC Spice? We gon’ come pick you up at school tomorrow.” And I’m like, “Whatever muthafucka, who the hell is this? Fuck outta here.” I hung the phone up and then 10 minutes later, the phone rang again and my mom answered. She was like, “Chico! There’s someone named Too $hort on the phone!” I get on the phone and it’s $hort, saying (imitating his voice) “Hey man, what time you get out of school?” So now I gotta be cool. This is muthafuckin’ Too $hort on the phone! I’m like (in the coolest, most nonchalant voice) “Oh, you know, I get out of school about 2:30, 3 o’clock.” And he’s like, “Okay, we gon’ come swoop you, just stand outside.” I was tryin’ be cool, and when he hung up I was like (five seconds of excited, cartoonish babbling). It was Too $hort!!!!

The next day at school, I’m tellin’ all my friends that Too $hort called me. They just like, “Hell nah. No way Too $hort comin’ to get you fool.” So we’re all standing there outside the school, waiting for him to pull up and sure enough, he pull up in a burgundy Biarritz convertible. White interior. He pull up and I said, “See! I told you!” He picked me up for the rest of the school year. We was hanging out and he’d take me to the studio. That experience of me being in the studio was an influence. The dude was cool as hell. I wanted to drive his car but he wouldn’t let me do that. And then I stole one and drove it over there and I was doing doughnuts in front of his house making hella noise. He opened up the door and yelled, “Chico! Get that stolen-ass car off my mama’s house n****!” I was thinking, why the fuck he think this car was stolen? But he knew damn well I stole that muthafuckin’ car. It was a Cadillac Biarritz. That’s uncle $hort, man. I used to do a lot of things to impress that dude (laughter).

I wanna talk about that first tape with the Dangerous Crew. You had “Leave It to Me” on there and there were songs by Rappin’ 4-Tay and Crazy Rak. You went from the breakin’ crew and now you were with this rap crew. What was that like? And you were still a teenager at the time.

(laughs). Going to school, I understood what haterism was at a very young age. A lot of my friends believed in me and was down with me from day one. But a lot of cats didn’t believe in me, even in my high school. They were doubting me and I would come through with my record and they would try their hardest to act unimpressed by this shit. It always bothered me. There’s this saying: “A prophet is never honored in his own space.” I felt the wrath of that at a young age. I felt how deep the hate could get. Many people would be trippin’ on you because they felt they should be in your position or they didn’t like that you were making it out and they not. You never know how deep it could go. And I experienced a lot of this stuff as a teen in high school. I was in school with my CD out, with Too $hort and the Dangerous Crew. I was passing it out at school and you was getting a lot of looks like, yeah, whatever muthafucka. And I was like, no, it’s real muthafucka.

The point of that, of passing out your CDs, is to get everybody to be like, “that’s him.” But I didn’t get that from my peers at school. A few of my friends was with me, but the majority was like, whatever n****. That taught me a lot right there. And even coming back with my album and passing out flyers that says I’m opening up for Eazy-E and N.W.A. I was 16. A few of my friends was like, “We comin’ through.” They started to rock with me then. They witnessed it for real. I really get down. I rocked the crowd, there was no doubt. There was no boos. They might’ve tried to talk shit before I started rapping, but once I started spitting I turnt them crowd of haters into some muthafuckas who love me. Right there before your eyes. And that’s what you supposed to do.

Were you scared at all about opening for them?

I had so much energy at that point in time. I was just on one. I coulda jumped into a roaring ocean—I had so much energy in me. I knew I had outrapped a lot of rappers by the time I got there. I had a lot of confidence in me and my music. My DJ was dope. It was DJ Pizzo, and he used to DJ for E-40 and Too $hort but he was my DJ from the beginning. He was from Hayward. We rocked that shit. They wanted to see N.W.A. and Eazy-E, they didn’t know who the fuck I was, but they knew who I was after I got off stage. Too $hort came up and watched me get down. Rodney-O & Joe Cooley, I opened up for them too. We had these concerts at the skating rink. They got me a lot of exposure. Four years later, by the time I was 20, “187 Proof” dropped.

I love that you had all these people who were older than you who were really supportive.

That was cool, man. A lot of people felt like I wasn’t supposed to be in the position I was, but being around $hort and the whole Dangerous Crew—4-Tay, J.J. Hard, even the homegirls—it was all a big influence to keep going. J.J. Hard still do his thing too. I saw him at the Tupac thing where they gave him his street. Hopefully I do some work with him still. We’re still pushing—it’s the Dangerous Crew! Everything and everybody who come into your life is either a blessing or a lesson. Every time you make a mistake, you gotta learn from it. Learn from everything.

In the ’90s you released a bunch of albums on Jive. Such a sick run. You obviously met with a bunch of people and worked with a bunch of artists. But who from that time was an important “lesson” instead of a blessing?

A few artists that I helped get to a higher plateau—or to a point in they career where they can move forward—they never showed me any type of thanks. None of that. Matter of fact, they basically didn’t want me to say that I helped. I’m not really gon’ say no names, but it hurt. I helped a few artists get to where they are and they do interviews and they don’t say my name. They get asked about the biggest rappers in the Bay Area, they get asked who’s hot and who’s good, and they don’t say my name and it’s been like that for years. It hurts—I ain’t gon’ lie. They got a list of Bay Area rappers and I’m number 8 and they got Tupac at number 6 I think. Like c’mon y’all. Really?

It’s good but it’s bad. I’m so old school—I’m so OG—that you muthafuckas don’t even know where y’all got “I’m from the Bay” from. That came from me. I said “I’m from the Bay.” When a muthafucka say “break yoself,” that came from me. That term is from me. And I’m here to say I was there and I started this shit. For me not to get the recognition that I think I deserve, it hurts. But at the same time, Imma artist and Imma do my music regardless. But it does get to me sometimes.

It makes sense. It can be hard.

I look at my wall and see 12 or 13 platinum and gold plaques and all of these movie soundtracks and this was when nobody was puttin’ it down in the Bay like that. It was just me and Too $hort. I got plaques from when it was just me and Too $hort, and our competition was N.W.A. I’m fightin’ on the charts with Dr. Dre and N.W.A. and all of the other hot artists from New York—Wu-Tang Clan. I’m out here battlin’ with these dudes for chart placing. That definitely wasn’t a game. And I’m comin’ from Hayward, a place where they don’t even know exist. I came from outta nowhere in the middle of the Bay Area. And I had muthafuckas all over the world turning their heads and raising their eyebrows back in the ’90s.

I’m not too full of myself. I’m just aware. I know how many records I sold and how many fans I got. I remember going to Japan and Australia and different countries and them following me to my hotel room on feet. I remember seeing my picture on the side of a bus in Germany, I remember my show and packing the house with two or three thousand people. I know who I am. I didn’t know who I was until I left this country. Then when I came back I was like, you hatin’ ass muthafuckas… I just came back from Japan. I got yen. I got yen in my pocket. I remember the first four rows of females just throwing up the heart sign (throws up heart sign with both hands). When you tryin’ put me out there like I didn’t do all this shit, it fucks with me. But still, it’s a learning experience. You just gotta keep going hard. It don’t matter.

After I got off Jive, I wanted to be #1 on the charts. I wanted my own label and do all of this own shit, but I had no intel on how to do this. I was signed to that record label for eight or ten years. By the time I got off, I didn’t know nothing about runnin’ my own label. The game was sold and not told. But they sold the game to me and didn’t even give me the game—they just took the money. When I got off the label, I was broke as hell and didn’t know shit about running a record label or none of that. I had to learn all over again, and it’s taken me all this time to do it.

I tried to renegotiate after I brought E-40 up there. I was like, “I need a deal like he got. Can I renegotiate and get the deal that he got now that I’ve brought somebody else up here who can generate more capital for your label?” And Jive was like, “No, just be happy with your fame, broke ass n****.” That’s basically what happened. “Just be happy with your fame, muthafucka.” I couldn’t even pay off a $130,000 house. And I did the math, I see they made $12,000,000 off the first record and the second one and the third one.

How was your relationship with Jive throughout the course of the ’90s? Like, did they just stop caring about you?

They just stopped caring about me bruh. They was just like, “We got this artist and that artist now.” They should’ve just let me go to another label who was really gonna put more into my music if they actually cared about me or my career. That’s what bothered me a lot. Russell Simmons was trying to get me over to Def Jam. I was trying to go to a few different labels but they would not let me go. They wanted to put me on the shelf and half-ass push my records, half-ass push my videos until my worth and my capital was going down. My record did two or three hundred thousand, and it usually came close to nine hundred thousand or a million. And then it went down from there. The skill never fell off. No, the label fell off. Jive ain’t here no more. Spice 1 is still here.

You know how Master P came back and got Snoop? Nobody came back and said, hey man, I’ve been listening to your music for hella long, let me put your record out and this is how you do it, let me lace you up. Nobody came and did that for me. “The game was to be sold, not told” instead of “each one, teach one.” That’s what it really should be so everybody can get some money. I learned on my own, and I’m slowly but surely getting my record label and everything in terms of distribution. I’m learning the business as I go along.

Even after Jive, you were churning out a lot of stuff in the early 2000s. You had Spiceberg Slim (2002), you had The Ridah (2004), you had The Pioneers (2004) with MC Eiht.

It was kind of scary because I was swimming in uncharted waters. You know how you hold a dog over water and they start going like this (mimics a dog paddling). When I got off Jive, I was like, shit, if you can’t swim you gon’ drown. I dropped this album, dropped that album, record over here, said let’s record with this cat. I had to drop music to stay afloat. If you don’t drop no music, you’re gon’ be dead to the world. Just keep droppin’ music. When somebody offer you money to do an album, when you get a chance to record, do that shit and try to keep yourself in existence until you figure out how to do it yourself.

I wanted to ask about Spiceberg Slim. It was named after Iceberg Slim, of course. I know you were into Donald Goines, too. Do you mind talking to me about what they meant to you?

They could write stories about the modern days in the ghetto. People were reading them and listening, and it was interesting to them. Once I read a book, I was like, I can do that with my music. He writes these gangster-ass books and tells stories about hookers getting killed and how the streets are so fucked up with all the drugs and all of that shit. This is what I’m going through and he’s putting it in a book. And he’s not glorifying it, he’s just telling a story. That’s what people say: “You’re glorifying death.” I’m just telling the story, man. It has to be told. Regardless of whether you like it or not, I just gotta tell a story. And that was my point.

It’s kind of like your dad’s story.

He had to tell me! He had to tell his son that if you walk around here acting cool, the bullet gon’ hit you. Pay attention to what’s goin’ around you!

You mentioned your plaques and your film soundtracks earlier. What’s it mean for you to have been a part of this cultural moment where you had songs on Menace II Society (1993) and Jason’s Lyric (1994) and Tales From the Hood (1995)?

It means a lot, man. When I ask people and they don’t know who Spice 1 is, I say, “Have you seen Menace II Society, have you seen Jason’s Lyric, have you seen Tales From the Hood?” And if they say yeah then I’m like, “Well, you’ve heard my music before.” And that’s big for me. For them to still be putting my music in films today is big for me. I heard “Strap on the Side” in the new Tupac documentary. “Strap on the Side” is actually in like three or four movies right now, and that’s so cool. And for it to be on the Tupac documentary along with “The Murda Show” with me and Eiht, it’s a scene where Tupac is just kickin’ and me and MC Eiht is just kickin’ it in the background. Now that’s a Tupac setting—he played Spice muthafuckin’ 1. I know that because he knew all the words to my songs when I met him.

Right, I knew he was a fan of your work and that you were a fan of his before you two had met. What was it like first meeting him?

Man, that shit was dope. It was like Batman meeting Superman, it was like Tango and Cash, it was like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. We clicked. He knew the words to the stutter rap and he hit me with the (starts rapping the first line of “Money Gone”). He was spittin’ it to me when I met him! I was thinking to myself like, damn, this like Batman and Superman gettin’ together to crush the enemy. It was big for me. Pretty sure it was for him, too. We’d hang out. We’d just be ridin’ around, kickin’ it. Trying to holla at females.

What do you feel like you learned about yourself as a person or as an artist from hanging around Tupac and Too $hort? And this doesn’t necessarily have to be from time spent in the studio but just you guys hanging out. Like, how do you feel like you grew?

Well Pac, I learned a lot from him just choppin’ it up. He was one never to hold his tongue. If he seen something that was goin’ on wrong, he’d know exactly what to say and when to say it. That’s what I learned from him. You gotta have the heart and the courage and the wisdom to address the situation right there when you see something goin’ wrong. You need the wisdom to know how to react to situations and set the scene straight. Sometimes I would think he was wrong until I listened to him and I’d be like, hey, he right. I can’t really say shit.

Too $hort, one of his biggest lessons to me was one of his songs: “Don’t Stop Rappin’.” Shit. I listened to that and when he said that he damn sure created a monster. I would listen to that shit and I was gon’ keep going. I learned a lot from both of ’em. Even around any of the artists I met, we all sit back and talked and we learned from each other—but only if they’re your friend. It’s hard to find friends in this shit.

Going back to the 2000s stuff, hyphy was getting big at the time. Were you worried about this new style being so popular given you were doing your own thing since the ’90s? What was going through your mind during all this?

I just wasn’t like that. Of course I got it in me—I’m a Bay cat and I pop my collar. But what’s not in me is to copy somebody else’s shit. Hyphy or not, I was sitting back like, that’s dope. I’m Spice 1, I’m the East Bay Gangster. I’m not your average Bay cat. I’m not finna switch over and try to do something or be something I’m not because it’s the “in” thing right now. Imma do my music and what I know. If they slide me a hyphy beat then Imma get down and spit it, but I do my music according to what I feel when I hear it. When I hear my beat, I do my music according to that.

I like that about myself, I like that about me. I like being able to say, “This is where I’m at, this is where my lane is. That’s a whole ’nother lane over there and I can’t switch over, I’m getting money over here with what I’m doing.” It’s gangster rap or gangster hip-hop, whatever they wanna call it. My name is Spice, so that means you don’t know what I’m about to come with. I do reggae (starts singing in Jamaican patois). I might get to doing that shit. I might get to rapping fast. I might get to stuttering. You never know what you gon’ get when you get one of my albums—you’re gon’ get different prizes in a box. It’s not gonna be the average Bay Area sound, but it’s definitely a Bay Area heart. My heart is from the Bay and that’s what I spit.

What do you like about reggae and when did you first get into it? Are there specific artists you like?

There are so many artists: Steel Pulse, Black Uhuru, Buju Banton. All the artists were an influence on me. I’m not talkin’ ’bout the reggaeton. That’s cool but that’s not me. That’s the club scene, and I’ll go to the club and dance to the reggaeton, but I don’t do it. I like roots reggae. I like the slow basslines and the echoing kick drums and the hi-hats. I like that shit because I smoke bud and I sit back and listen to it and (mimics a deep reggae bassline). I like the slow shit like that. That’s what I was listening to when I was a kid. Peter Tosh, Bob Marley, all the Marleys. I embedded it into my style. I may hear Super Cat (mimics his singing) and I stay stuttering (starts stutter rapping).

A lot of artists don’t listen to no roots reggae. Ain’t no n**** on the block kickin’ it and listening to Black Uhuru. They listenin’ to the latest artists now, and it’s some gangster shit, but I turn on some reggae music and fire up a blunt and can listen to this all day long. It had a great influence on my music. And those cats are old as hell and they still doing it. Shout out to all the reggae artists, shout out to all the Rasta.

Was there anything with the lyrics or the storytelling you learned from them?

It was more of the styles, the slow bounce style. I was bouncing to that shit and spittin’ to the bounce. When I first heard it and the beats were (mimics slow reggae bassline) I could rap hella fast to that shit because it’s slow and the bass is slappin’. I needed some beats like that, so here comes “East Bay Gangster” and “Trigga Gots No Heart.” I figured I could rap slow. If the beat’s going slow I could do some slow reggae hooks to this shit.

Do you feel like smoking weed has played a role in your artistry? Like, if you didn’t smoke weed, do you feel like you’d be a completely different artist?

I had to say myself, “Dude, if you don’t smoke no weed, you’re gonna go to jail motherfucker. If you don’t calm yo ass down and smoke some blunts…” (laughter). I’m into all of this martial arts and guns and shit like that. “Just smoke some weed motherfucker!” I had to talk to myself, like, “Hey, chill out dude! You got a rap career going. You don’t gotta bow down to nobody, you 6’1”, you weigh 220 lbs, and you know how to handle yourself.” People are gonna test you—I knew this. And a lot of people did. I’ve been shot, I’ve been robbed, muthafuckas stole my cars—same shit I was doin’ to people. So I didn’t really feel that bad because it was like, shit, I did it to somebody too.

I learned from that shit. Looking back on everything, I made it through a lot of stuff. My mom is passed, both my parents are gone, my brother just passed away a couple of months ago, I lost a lot of friends on the way. A lot of them people in those videos, a lot of them homies ain’t even here no more. If you look at the “Welcome to the Ghetto” video, at least half of them dudes ain’t even here no more. They’re gone. But that don’t do nothing but give me more incentive to push harder. I gotta make my mark on this Earth for them and for me. I gotta do something real big. I gotta leave a positive mark because that’s all that’s gon’ matter when I’m gone.

It used to be the most important thing to me that I’d get back to #1 on the charts. A more mature approach to life now, the most important thing to me now, is spending time with loved ones and family. Gettin’ as much time in with them as I can before I’m gone or they gone—that’s the most important thing in life. I’m trying to get around them and help them out. And if I gotta be the greatest rapper in the world to do that, then that’s what I’m doin’.

On the new album, Platinum O.G. 2 (2024), you’ve got the track “Houston to the Bay.” You’ve got Lil’ Flip on there, and you toured with him back in 2004, I think.

Yeah.

I was thinking of Mac Dre’s “L.A. 2 da Bay” and now we’ve got “Houston to the Bay.” What’s your relationship with Texas like? What does Texas and Lil’ Flip mean to you?

Houston’s another home. When I go to Houston, It’s like going back to the Bay for me. All my cousins and aunties and uncles—they there. I found out a few years ago that Scarface was my cousin. I always go hang out at Rap-A-Lot, Lil J is a good friend of mine, it’s always been love goin’ through Houston. Shout out to Bushwick Bill, that was one of my close friends. I can literally say I’m from Houston and have a right to say that. That’s how I feel about it. Even though I ain’t got a Houston accent, all my people over there in Houston. I was raised in California but I was born in Texas. I got the best of both worlds in me. And I put that into my music too. That’s why I tell everybody to stay tuned—I’m a whole different monster but I’m the same beast.

What from Houston have you put into your music?

Even when I was a kid and would go to Houston, they hold swag and style. The culture was the same as the Bay but different. The way that the women would dance was different. They been twerkin’ in Houston before twerkin’ was even twerkin’. I’m 13 or 14 watching girls twerk in Houston like they twerk now! They was doin’ that shit when I was 14. That shit is nothin’ new out there. I got a little bit of the bounce from there too. You know when you rock, there’s that bounce move (starts bobbing his head side to side). That’s not Cali—Cali is this (slowly rocks his head back and forth). So when I mix both of the styles up, I got my own shit. So that was good for me. Let me throw a little bit of Houston up in here, let me throw a little bit of reggae up in here, let me throw a little bit of Oakland up in here and see what comes out the pot.

You have the song “Projects” on the new album and it samples Ice Cube’s “Once Upon a Time in the Projects.” I think it’s cool that you knew that song when it came out and that decades later you’re rapping over it.

(laughs). Yeah.

What’s it like to have this new album with new cats and old legends? What was going through your mind when making this album and a song like “Projects”?

To sum it all up, I think to myself sometimes that it’s been a long road bruh. It’s been a long, hard, cold, rainy, scary road. Being in the hospital from being shot, being in the hospital from stressing over my mom, from friends dying to being homeless to everything. Man, it’s been a long road getting back here to this point where I’m at now. And I’ve still got so far to go, but it’s still exciting. I still got energy—damn near more energy than I started with (laughter). I’m actually having fun doing this! That’s important to me, but the most important thing is being around my family. My kids come first, and after that everything fall into place.

You have like three daughters or something, right?

I’ve got four daughters, yeah. All beautiful and growing up and it’s gettin’ crazy. All of them are really pretty and you know the saying: “Don’t be the reason yo daddy go to jail.” Don’t let these fuckboys find you and shit—I don’t wanna put hands on these n****s! (laughter). And they like, “Oh dad, I’ll be okay.” And I’m like, “Find somebody who ain’t gonna do no crazy shit so I don’t have to fuck they ass up.”

Is there anything you feel like you’ve learned about yourself from focusing on family and being a father?

I been growin’ with em. My youngest is 11 and my oldest will be 26 this year. My 11 year old, I raised them and I learned a lot about women. Having four daughters, you learn a lot about what they go through on the daily. It’s a struggle for them too. I just figured that I gotta stay alive long enough and create enough capital where if they need something, daddy got it. Don’t be beggin’ no dudes for nothing—get yo own shit and I’ll help you. That’s my main thing with them. I tell them all of the time: “I don’t wanna go to my grave knowin’ that y’all can’t take care of y’all selves.”

I got one son and he’s in Atlanta. He’s 15 and his voice is already deeper than mine (laughter). It’s just cool having my kids and seeing ’em and trying be around ’em as much as I can. That definitely give me energy too. And you can learn from them too! Just because they kids don’t mean you can learn nothing from ’em. I got a nephew and this n**** just records on his phone and goes to the studio and mix and master it. It’s like, hold on, how the hell? What the hell? Show me that!

I got two quick questions and we’ll be done. Can you tell me what it was like to be on the remix for “I Got 5 On It”?

I was with Tony! Toni! Toné!—I was with D’Wayne [Wiggins] doin’ something. Yukmouth or somebody called me and was like, “Hey, we recordin’ a remix for ‘I Got 5 On It’ and you the last one on it, we need you to get up here now.” And I’m like, shit! I look at D’Wayne and he was like, “Do what you gotta do.” I hopped in the car and drove over to the studio—I was in Oakland at the time and just drove across town. I walk in and the first person I see is E-40 sitting there and he was writing his verse and I was like, “Oh shit, what’s crackin’?” And he was like “Oh shit, get in!” I wrote like eight bars and then I freestyled the rest of the shit. That was cool. We was all at the studio and we was all recordin’.

I have one last question and I ask it to every person I interview. Do you mind sharing one thing you love about yourself?

I’m gonna keep goin’ until I’m six feet. I’m a soldier. I’m a tank. I took a lot of hits and I’m still movin’! I’m still movin’ forward, too. And that makes me feel good about myself. I’ve been through the rain, the storm, through hell. A lot of shit, man. A lot of people don’t respect me like I think they should. And that’s fine, too—Imma get that respect. Imma get that. I’m pushin’ towards that. I’m a go-getter, I’m a smasher, I’m a rider. I’m a ryda: R-Y-D-A. I’m a ryda, man.

Is there anything you’ve always wanted to be asked in an interview that you’ve never been asked before?

What I do that nobody else knows that I do and like: I’m into Japanese swords and masks. (grabs a sword from the room and pulls it out). And this sword is dope because when you pull the sword out, you got these knives that you throw that are inside the [scabbard]. I had a lot of Asian friends growin’ up in the Bay Area so I know how to throw these motherfuckers (laughter).

I know you were a Bruce Lee fan growing up too.

A big influence. If it wasn’t for Bruce, Spice 1 wouldn’t be goin’ so hard, I’ll tell you that much. I see how he trained to be the best, and that’s what I do. I studied this rap music like he studied Kung Fu. I studied this music, the styles, the skills. Noun for noun, word for word, syllable for syllable—I studied this shit. There’s an art to this shit and I’m deep off into it like Bruce Lee was. And I learned that from him—how to get deep off into your craft.

Did you watch a lot of Kung Fu movies growing up?

Hell yeah. That’s all I watched. All of ’em! Everything! All of the Wu Tang movies, all of the Shaolin movies. Dude, just look at my room (does a tour of his room to reveal a folding screen, nunchucks, paper lanterns, masks, Japanese posters, Japanese fans, and more swords).

Holy shit. How many swords you got?

I got about seven. Some are in the closet, I got three up here, I got another right here.

What got you into the masks?

This is one of my favorite ones right here (shows a black mask with gold teeth). This is from a video game called Ghost of Tsushima (2020). I play that all the time. This other mask is one of my favorites, it’s crazy (shows a blood-red mask with massive white teeth). I sit up in my room and I got this Kung Fu gi that Ip Man used to wear. It cost me maybe three hundred bucks, just the top. I got the hat (shows a black Japanese straw hat) and I sit here with all this on and I’ll play this Asian meditation music. I’ll be in here smokin’ a blunt. My daughters come in here, saying “sensei” and I tell ’em some advice, I tell ’em some real shit. My daughters think it’s funny (laughter). And I’m like, hey, I’m just being pops. This is how pops gets down.

Spice 1’s new album, Platinum O.G. 2, is out now on various streaming platforms.

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