As rap’s pioneers age, one of the genre’s most talented lyricists defies expectations to everyone’s benefit. It wasn’t long ago that Game took a jab at Jay-Z with the line, “You 38 and still rappin’? Ugh!” from his 2006 track “It’s Okay (One Blood).” Yet now, some of rap’s biggest names are approaching, or have surpassed, forty. A “Tale Of The Tape” scene in the music video for Drake and J. Cole’s recent collaboration “First Person Shooter” shows them at 37 and 38 years old, respectively. There was a time when rappers would hesitate to admit they were nearing 40, but the stigma of being “too old” for rap has mostly faded as legions of hip-hop fans enter middle age, and savvy artists like Drake find ways to stay relevant with younger audiences, for better or worse.
Andre 3000 Net Worth $35 Million
Today’s rap veterans have the freedom to keep releasing music at a rapid pace like Drake, who has dropped four albums in two years, or Nas, who has released five albums in three years. Alternatively, they can be selective, like Jay-Z, who recently stated that his next project, if it ever happens, would need to have a significant impact on society. Similarly, J. Cole appears to be deliberately leading up to his final album. Then there’s Andre 3000, a maverick who, despite being one of the best guest feature rappers, has never released a solo rap album. Fans were let down when he announced that his first album since OutKast’s 2003 release The Love Below, titled New Blue Sun, would be a flute album with no rapping. Even though “grown man rap” is now accepted, not every artist is obligated to flood the market—or release anything at all, as in Andre’s case. His legacy as one-half of a legendary rap duo is already secure, whether or not he ever releases a solo rap project. In fact, it seems unlikely that he will, especially if he continues down the intriguing path of New Blue Sun, an absorbing eight-track, 90-minute experience. I’m no flute expert, but if these melodies have been in his mind, it’s no wonder he’s traveled the world happily, seemingly unconstrained by societal norms.
One of the many creatively titled tracks on New Blue Sun is “I Swear, I Really Wanted To Make A ‘Rap’ Album But This Is The Way The Wind Blew Me This Time.” Like all good humor, it reflects a truth: Andre 3000 excels in rap’s most underappreciated quality—self-awareness.
In rap, self-awareness isn’t usually a celebrated trait. Even the most relatable artists often project an exaggerated version of themselves as the center of the universe. Every rapper has to step into the booth believing they are the best in the world. I often say I don’t have a top five, but my favorite rapper is whoever convinces me they’re my favorite at the moment. Part of that conviction comes from a high degree of self-confidence, the kind that results in uninspired fan-pleasing albums that have weighed down the major label rap scene. Many veteran rappers are content releasing albums that only hint at what makes them great, as if they feel they have no other choice. Andre 3000 could easily sell such an album every year. But he’s repeatedly stated that he wants to be more deliberate about what he says.
In a recent interview with GQ, Andre told Zac Baron that while he receives beats from producers regularly, “sometimes it feels inauthentic for me to rap because I don’t have anything to talk about in that way.” He continued, “I’m 48 years old. And not to say that age dictates what you rap about, but in a way it does. And the things that happen in my life, like, what are you talking about? ‘I’ve got to go get a colonoscopy.’ What are you rapping about? ‘My eyesight is going bad.’ You can find cool ways to say it, but…” His comments disappointed fans, some of whom argued that they would actually enjoy “colonoscopy raps” from Three Stacks. Others misinterpreted his personal take as a broader critique of rap, criticizing him for seemingly questioning the value of middle-aged rappers. His thoughts echo his earlier question, “Do I really want to be 50 years old up there doing that? When I watch other rappers my age, I commend them, but I just wonder where the inspiration comes from.” Despite some thinking he’s overanalyzing his role in rap, it seems Andre knows exactly what he has to offer and what he wants to offer, and he’s concluded that he lacks the inspiration to do more. During the GQ interview, he compared himself to boxers who “do exhibition fights now and then, but they’re not stepping in the ring.” His sparse output, with one or two classic verses per year, aligns with that assessment. His contributions to T.I.’s “Sorry,” Ye’s “Life Of The Party,” and Frank Ocean’s “Solo (Reprise)” are among the best verses in recent rap history. However, it’s uncertain whether he could maintain that level of quality throughout an entire album. His extended verses, though too technically complex to be considered streams of consciousness, often feel like bursts of creative energy granted by the universe; perhaps he refuses to commercialize that process. It’s also uncertain whether he could sustain that standard across a full-length solo album—especially when he’s never done so before. He told GQ that with rap, “the longer I’m out of it, the better chances I have of staying out of it.” And since he’s never been in the solo rap album game, who’s to say he’ll ever want to join?
Jay-Z seems to be equally focused on intentionality these days. The legendary Brooklyn rapper told Gayle King, “I already [used the word ‘retirement’], I can’t do that ever again. I’ll say I wanna make music, but it has to be something important. I don’t wanna just make a bunch of tunes. That’s not gonna serve me. It won’t feed me, first of all. I have to be saying something important. It has to mean something, you know? It has to mean something to a larger society.” Once you’ve said so much, it’s worth being selective about what you say next.
Jay-Z, who was one of the first rap superstars to publicly confront the concept of retiring, made a big deal out of stepping away from rap after The Black Album, only to reveal later that he genuinely believed he would never rap again after its 2005 release. But he returned with a consistent string of albums through the late 2000s and early 2010s. Albums like Blueprint 3, Watch The Throne, and Magna Carta Holy Grail felt like heavily marketed, larger-than-life projects designed to position him as a business mogul. It’s easier to sell a company on partnering with someone who can still top the Billboard charts than with a legacy act.
But now, with a reported net worth of $2.5 billion, Jay-Z has all the leverage he needs and no longer requires rap for anything other than artistic expression. He has said that he won’t release new music unless it’s truly worth it. He didn’t even credit himself on Jay Electronica’s A Written Testimony, where he appeared on eight tracks, and the lyrically dense project somehow feels like an underground album from the billionaire husband of the world’s biggest pop star. His photos with artists like Mach-Hommy and Griselda members spark curiosity about his future musical direction; fulfillment may take precedence over mainstream appeal. If Andre 3000 were to give in to public demand, his brilliant turn as a flutist might never have happened, and he might be releasing rap music he’s not fully confident in, just to satisfy others. Since OutKast stopped making music, he has transitioned from being part of rap’s most commercially successful duo to the culture’s wandering flutist, occasionally delivering powerful verses on friends’ tracks. If that’s all he has to offer in 2023, it’s more than enough.