(2 of 3)
Rah, 25, clearly hasn't earned the big bucks yet. But she's well positioned. Imperial, a thumping single off her album, is in the Top 20 on the Billboard rap charts. Busta Rhymes calls her "unquestionably the best female MC." He's almost right. Lauryn Hill is still the best. But on Dirty Harriet, Rah Digga proves herself to be the best to come along since Hill. Rah's voice is rough and low; at times she sounds like a man. Her beats are strong too: her songs hit the listener like middleweight champs. Her lyrics can be playful or boastful or political (she appeared on Hip-Hop for Respect, a four-song CD put out in response to the Amadou Diallo shooting). Rah uses her sexuality not as a come-on but as a weapon. She wants to show that female MCs can be as tough and aggressive as men--and look good at the same time. "I gotta thank God," she raps on Curtains, "I can look this fly and rock it this hard."
"I don't have a problem exploiting my youth and my looks to sell my rhymes--but I don't want to push the sexual stuff to the forefront," she says. "I would rather push my MC skills. But if you do happen to notice that I look good or that I got bodacious ta-tas, that's all good too."
Rah enters the room. She's wearing a green hooded jacket, jeans and fringed brown boots that zip up on the side. Her daughter is wearing a blue coat and jeans with flower patches sewn on the legs. They're both ready to roll. Rah wants to go to a place called the Outhouse.
As you drive through her neighborhood, she talks about her life. She began rapping in seventh grade. She attended a boarding school for a few years ("It definitely wasn't the place for no rapper") before a single year at the New Jersey Institute of Technology. Q-Tip brought her to the attention of Elektra Records. Busta Rhymes gave her her next break, allowing her to perform cameos on his records and returning the favor on Dirty Harriet.
You've arrived at the Outhouse. It's a broken-down three-story building with several SUVs parked in front, stereos blaring. The loudest SUV is playing Hill's Lost Ones. This is the place where Rah and other local rappers, like the Outsidaz, hang out. Young Zee, an up-and-coming rapper, comes out and gives Rah a long kiss. Turns out they're engaged (he's also the father of her daughter). "We want to get married on a Valentine's Day," says Rah. "We've been together eight years now. Valentine's Days keep slippin' by."
You sit next to her on a gray stoop. "I definitely want to make enough money to secure my future," she says, exhaling smoke from a Marlboro Light. "Rap is just a stepping stone. I want my own label and to watch other talent pay dues and suffer headaches like I used to." She laughs.
Not long afterward, you're at the office, writing the story. One of your editors calls. Is this rapper really going to break big? he asks. Are we going to be seeing her in magazines and newspapers and photo spreads in the days and weeks ahead? You reply, Absolutely.