Dig This! San Quinn

Rhapsody: You have one of your young ones on the album.
San Quinn: My son Lil’ Quinn is on the album. He’s on “Billionare,” which is about us trying to have college education for children. We talk about so much else in rap. If I would’ve known for sure that I could’ve gone to college and got my education, I would’ve went. I want him to be the best man he could be, twenty times better than me. That’s the way it’s supposed to be.

You were around his age when you started.
Lil’ Quinn is 11. The first record I was on was “Frisco Players Ain’t No Punks,” which was really “Frisco N*gg*’s Ain’t No Punks.” It was on JT’s album Don’t Stop ‘Till We’re Major. That was in 1992 and I was 14. I dropped my first solo record in March 1993. I was in 10th grade and I wrote the whole album and everything. I was Lil’ Bow Wow before there was Lil’ Bow Wow. Kris Kross was my competition. I wanted to take them out.

What was it like being in the game that young?
Rapping is a blessing in itself. We make American poetry over music, and it makes us millions of dollars and we’re able to change millions of lives. When I came in at that age, I wanted my name to be known in the Fillmore district. People are known for various things in the Fillmore. People are known for killing, for dope dealing and for being good basketball players like Bobby Shaw. You just want people to know your name. My niche was rapping. I stuck to it. I was able to get picked up. Davey D, he was producing for Rappin’ 4-Tay, and he saw the talent in me. At 14, he started taking me to Richmond to record my album Don’t Cross Me. And I knew JT from Fillmore. I was snuck on his “Frisco Players” by Gigolo G. I was on there last, and JT – he wasn’t hating on me – but he said that I couldn’t go on last, that they had to find some other place for me. But he let me stay on there, and it boosted my career. I have a lot of love for JT.

“SF Anthem” blew up. What did that mean to you and the City?
I’m a spiritual person and want to thank God for that. I also want to thank E-Hustle, a record company that saw the vision of what we were doing. It really wasn’t my record. It was Big Rich’s record. But Big Rich, being that we grew up together and that he has good etiquette, knew that he couldn’t do it without San Quinn. When we did the record, it brought tears to my eyes. Cool Nut is dead, Mr. C is dead. We’ve tried so hard independently.

I want to represent the solid part of etiquette of San Francisco to let them know that the gays may have Castro, but there are brothers in Fillmore and there are tough white boys in the Sunset and Richmond and Chinese cats that don’t play. I’m trying to represent those. For those guys who wear the SF hats and 49ers jerseys with pride, I want to be their rapper.

Every time I drive across the Bay Bridge, I visualize me shooting a video in San Francisco. There’s so many beautiful sights that the world should be able to see. There was a director trying to do a video treatment where I was in a warehouse. I was like, ‘Why the f*ck would I want to be in a warehouse? I’ve been living here and dreaming about being this rapper for years. Everything here is scenic. Everything here is rap music."

That’s why we have this album. From a Boy to a Man. I grew up in the hip-hop industry. I was 14 when I did my first record and I’m 31 now, and, without a doubt, hip-hop saved my life. Everyone else I grew up with is dead or in jail. They have murder cases, or they’re afraid that people want to kill them. My respect is not because people fear me; it’s because of what I do.

One thing that I loved about the national popularity of “SF Anthem” was that it made a statement that hyphy may have died, but we’re still here in the Bay and we’re still putting out great music.
That’s big. That’s what we were trying to get out there. Black people do exist in San Francisco. Not just black, but white, Samoan … we all stick together here.  It’s not all gay people. The reason gay people are so famous is like the movie with Sean Pean, Harvey Milk. Someone went up into the mayor’s office and killed somone for being gay and they killed George Moscone. [Homosexuals] said, “Let’s rise.” Gay people also have a lot of money, but anyone in San Francisco has money. My mother’s house on Grove Street is worth 1.3 million dollars, and we sold crack and toted guns out of there. So anyone who owns property in San Francisco has money, but the rich and the poor live hand in hand. That’s what’s deceiving about the City.

Do you think the gentrification of San Francisco hurt the hip-hop scene in the City?
My grandfather was part of the A-1 project [a development project launched in 1948 that resulted in the relocation of thousands of Fillmore residents into Bay View/Hunters Point Area.]. My grandfather’s name was Wilbert Hamilton, and Justin Herman was one of his good friends. He had to tear down my great-grandfather’s church in order to get the black out of there. The gentrification is a long year process, and it’s not over until 2009. With none of us being successful to the point where we could change our neighborhood, who is going to buy it? We end up turning guns on one another so we can be famous.

I love how they have the jazz restoration thing on the Fillmore, but what about the hip-hop artists from that area?
I’m hurt that they didn’t put my face up there. They gonna put [murals] of Me, JT and Rappin’ 4-Tay up there. We have a strong sense of pride that they don’t want to understand. Fillmore is real. It’s the Harlem of the West.