Joe and Jada - Pete Rock on CL Smooth split, Nas & 'Illmatic,' 50 Cent & G.O.A.T. hip hop producers

We do it different over here, and tonight we’re tapping in with a basement legend.

When you think hip‑hop, icy letters, from the basement, timeless drums and a legacy that set the bar, you think Pete Rock—make some noise.

Love being here. I support y’all heavy, and I see everything on the ’Gram.

You always ride for the Yankees and the Knicks in the comments, and they still hate New York like we didn’t start half the culture.

They hate because New York started so much—from fashion to slang—and we’re still here.

Real talk, do you feel how much I salute Heavy D and how much he shaped me, even if I never grabbed him and said, I’m here because of you?

Yes. Heavy opened doors for a lane that inspired a lot of us, and that kind of love multiplies.

He guided crews like Ruff Ryders and The LOX, gave us game at the garage, and the whole Heavy D and the Boyz family meant a lot—rest in peace Trouble T‑Roy.

I tried to line up a Pete Rock and CL Smooth moment at an anniversary show, but it fell apart—was it just too deep?

Talent matched, but the personalities didn’t; as you grow, you protect your peace, even if you wish the group could’ve lasted.

Groups that rock shows and don’t speak after feel awkward; I’m solo, and I’ve seen artists I helped turn wild—every young star needs an uncle who says, chill.

To me, T.R.O.Y. might be the greatest beat ever; those horns feel ancestral.

It’s the most sentimental hip‑hop record to me too, and that’s why it hits every time.

Jam Master Jay pulled up to my mom’s crib for Down With the King; we built it in front of Russell, I proved the drums, and JMJ’s idea lit the fuse—rest in peace.

I ran for miles to The World Is Yours; talk about that hook and how it came together.

Large Professor brought it through, we landed on the joint, and he had me sing the hook the way he heard it; it clicked on the spot.

Pull up for a Pete Rock x The LOX session; we got rooms ready and the city would love it.

On the MC Shan sample, I paid people three times on another record just to avoid smoke, and still folks get mad.

I took care of him and he even saluted, then doubled back with heat the next week; that part confused me.

I big up DJs like Kid Capri and Khaled because I want to preserve the culture, but sometimes giving flowers turns into drama.

I’ve been in real beefs where only a few stood with me—shout to Juju and AB Butler for being solid when it counted.

Don’t Curse was a Green Street moment; legends slid through, Heavy drove the concept, and I laid the beat so everyone could snap without profanity.

Top producer‑MCs for you?

J Dilla, Diamond D, Erick Sermon, and Dr. Dre are in that class for me.

I did a crazy joint with Dre and Kurupt with a beat switch; Kurupt is super underrated, and that one never came out.

We need Ice‑T on this couch; he had the city chanting for Larry Davis back in the day, real Robin Hood energy.

Knicks talk: we’re not trading Jalen Brunson for any dream—build smart, don’t blow up the core chasing a name.

Keep the team intact and run it back; people fear what we’ve got brewing.

I still look out in the streets, gave a heavy winter coat to a brother freezing; I’ve seen hustles like three‑card monte take school clothes, and even had my whole spot cleaned out—karma’s real.

Straighten It Out was me going at bootlegging; we shot the video in a real jail, and even the women’s side got wild during the shoot.

I once handed a hit to someone who wanted to stay underground and they never released it; not everybody wants a chart moment.

Beats I wish I did include a couple from Dre and Primo, and I love Big L’s The Big Picture.

Beats I wish I made range from Straighten It Out and T.R.O.Y. to In Da Club; I helped shape Candy Shop with Scott and still shake my head when it comes on.

I heard 50 spit How to Rob at Trackmasters early and told him it would ruffle feathers; the beat hit crazy, and then Checkmate flew back.

I don’t replay old diss records anymore; that energy’s over for me.

I produced Common’s Cube diss The Bitch in You, and classics like The Bridge Is Over still show how hard a battle record can hit.

We debated who birthed that early gangster lens, from Ice‑T in Breakin’ era to KRS, and remembered LL’s wars with Kool Moe Dee and Teddy Riley’s touch on that era.

Where’s hip‑hop headed when the young guys only want to stream and not rap?

It’s on pioneers to bridge it; I was harsh before, so I made Yours with Common as a nod to the youth and a way to connect.

Who’s the best producer of the last five years?

Alchemist shines; we even bumped into each other digging for records in Japan.

Diamond D flipped one of my thrift finds into an early demo, and I’ve always loved big horn records.

I caught the horn bug from 45 King and Marley Marl, then pushed it my way.

You know what I’m chasing right now? That raw 45 King grit, but producers keep making it glossy and the feel gets lost.

This is why AI hurts music. It can’t carry a soul or that inside‑out spark that makes a record breathe.

A guy at the deli asked if I play instruments and it made me lay out what hip hop really pulls from. We sample everything—reggae, jazz, rock—and saying it out loud hit me like, this culture is all of it, even Run‑DMC channeling rock energy.

At the Yankee Stadium 50th, I truly felt top tier on that stage; I tore it down and went to the suite grinning like a kid when the classics hit. Those were my superheroes growing up—Fat Boys, Run‑DMC—and SPEAKER_05 co‑signs I outperformed.

Big love to the architects: Larry Smith the genius who looked out, Davey D with the cuts, and Malcolm McLaren’s wild ideas that shook the scene.

Graham School Park and Memorial Field were the spots, and there was that seventies Jackson Five moment; the memories blur into Run‑DMC dancing in my head, and shout out to grab love.

What was the first joint you heard walking into jams as a kid? For me it’s Apache, then SPEAKER_09 kept chanting Good Times, and I’ll add To Be Real and Dance to the Drummer’s Beat.

I remember sweating on the project radiator with a cassette, rewinding lines about women creating while men go to work, and realizing lyrics could make you think. SPEAKER_08 calls that the ultimate joint.

We wrap with a toast to 1800 tequila, finest agave vibes only; SPEAKER_10 says it brings out the best, and SPEAKER_09 turns the room up for B. Rock.