In May, I was in my office grading papers when an email came through from Arika, a paralegal working for Toronto lawyer Gary Grill. They were reaching out to me about potentially serving as an expert witness in a murder trial. The case involved Hassan Ali, better known as the rapper Top5, who was charged in 2021 with first-degree murder in the shooting of 20-year-old accounting student Hashim Omar Hashi.
Arika mentioned that they had come across my research on drill rap and hoped I could testify on the inadmissibility of rap lyrics and music videos as criminal evidence. Without hesitation, I agreed.
As an academic expert on hip-hop culture, Black youth, the music industry and the digitization of artistic expression, my research explores the intersection of cultural production, race and legal systems, focusing particularly on drill music culture.
Drill music is a subgenre of hip-hop that originated in Chicago, characterized by its gritty, raw lyrics focused on street life, violence and survival, often reflecting the harsh realities of inner-city environments.
Lyrics as evidence
In September, a judge ruled that Top5’s social media posts, music videos and lyrics were inadmissible as evidence, recognizing that much of what he posted was part of his artistic persona. As a result, the charges against him were stayed.
The Canadian legal system, like its U.S. counterpart, has allowed these forms of creative expression to be weaponized against artists. This was evident in the case of Chael Mills and Lavare Williams, where rap lyrics were used as evidence contributing to their convictions for murder. That case (and others like it) opened the door for rap lyrics to be used against artists in court, further entrenching harmful stereotypes about Black men and violence. This practice is unjust and perpetuates racial biases.
Though Top5’s lyrics didn’t explicitly threaten the victim in this case, the prosecution used songs and social media posts in which he alludes to the Go Getem Gang (his crew) being a criminal group. In 2023, he appeared in a music video while in prison where he said: “I was 18 when I bought a gun, 22 when I shot your son.”
Using rap lyrics and music videos as evidence is not only unfair but it perpetuates the dangerous assumption that rappers’ personas are entirely authentic representations of who they are. This often results in creative expression being misinterpreted as autobiographical fact, jeopardizing someone’s freedom based on their art.
However, when I delved into Top5’s online presence, I was struck by just how sensational his persona was. Beyond the music videos, he is an avid vlogger and live streamer, frequently discussing recent shootings, open cases involving his friends and making overt threats toward his rivals — all while name-dropping his connections, including Drake. He was using social media in a way that blurred the line between artistic performance and self-incrimination.
This placed me in a difficult moral position. Reviewing all the evidence and seeing Top5’s brazen online behaviour made me wonder whether defending him would undermine my larger argument: that rap lyrics and videos shouldn’t be used as evidence because they are artistic expressions, not confessions.
However, this internal debate led me to reaffirm my stance: the very assumptions I was grappling with were precisely what I had been fighting against. Even if Top5 seemed to push the boundaries, it was still unjust for the legal system to interpret his art and social media as literal truths.
Clout chasing
What became clear to me was that Top5, like many young rappers, was caught in the grip of clout chasing — a phenomenon driven by the need for attention and validation in today’s social media age.
Clout chasing isn’t just about gaining followers; it reflects deeper issues in society, especially among Black youth.
As sociologist Elijah Anderson described, the tension between earning respect in the streets and striving for middle-class success is central to understanding drill rappers like Top5. On one side, Black youth are encouraged to adopt “decency” as defined by white society and achieve upward mobility through socially acceptable means.
On the other, they must navigate the “code of the streets,” where respect is earned through fearlessness and survival, often in defiance of mainstream societal norms.
Top5’s rise illustrates this tension vividly. His strategy for visibility online relied heavily on broadcasting the most sensational aspects of his life — threats, rivalries and bravado — all while crafting a persona as a street entrepreneur.
However, Top5’s lyrics, videos and social media posts exist in a gray area between reality and performance art. What Hassan Ali creates as Top5 is a carefully constructed character, not a confession to crimes.
This distinction is crucial in understanding why these forms of expression should not be used as evidence in court. The very nature of rap as a genre involves exaggeration, metaphor and artistic license, and treating it as literal truth is both unjust and misleading.
The broader implications of clout chasing and the digital age on legal proceedings are significant. Top5’s use of digital clout is, in many ways, a symptom of what some scholars have called “emotional illiteracy” among some young Black men — a kind of bravado or fearlessness that manifests as aggression or recklessness online.
Yet, this behaviour is often misunderstood. It’s not about incriminating oneself. It’s about asserting one’s worth and survival in a society that has long marginalized young Black voices.
Legal implications
The judge’s decision in Top5’s case was groundbreaking. It underscored that even in an era of social media oversharing, courts must be careful not to conflate performance with reality. For the first time, a court acknowledged that an artist’s social media content could be as much a part of their creative self-expression as their lyrics or music videos.
This ruling was not only significant for rap and hip-hop artists who have long been subjected to legal scrutiny based on their work. It also signals a growing recognition that creative expression — whether in the form of lyrics, videos or even Instagram posts — cannot be treated as literal fact without risking injustice.
As rap music continues to evolve and engage with social issues, it’s imperative that the legal system evolves alongside it, developing a more nuanced understanding of artistic expression in the digital age.
Using rap music as evidence in criminal trials is not just a legal issue but a cultural one. It speaks to how society views Black art and Black lives. By treating rap lyrics as confessions, the legal system perpetuates harmful stereotypes about Black men as inherently violent or criminal.
The decision in Top5’s case represents a step forward, but the fight for justice is far from over. We must remain vigilant in protecting the creative freedoms of all artists, regardless of how controversial their work may seem.
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