Recommendations of the Editorial team
“I’m Gucci. It’s a rap. F**k [can they do] about a rap?”
These are the words of Lawrence Montague – spoken in a phone call from prison. Words that are at the center of a fundamental legal dispute in Maryland today: the use of rap lyrics as evidence in criminal proceedings.
Maryland prosecutors cited Montague’s rap verses, recorded over the prison phone and later posted on Instagram, as evidence of his guilt in the death of George Forrester. In December 2020, Maryland’s highest court ruled in Montague vs. Maryland that rap lyrics can be admitted as evidence of guilt in court. The court’s stance in treating the genre as inherently violent reveals a deeply flawed and biased view – Montague was convicted and sentenced to fifty years in prison.
Dangerous precedent
On appeal, the state Supreme Court upheld Montague’s conviction, saying his lyrics made it more likely that he shot Forrester. In doing so, the court adopted the very bias that the legal system is supposed to protect against.
This ruling set a dangerous precedent – particularly for rap and hip-hop artists in America – and prompted Variety to publish our January 2021 opinion piece. What we didn’t realize at the time was that the article would spark a national movement. Today, it has become a united front of influential academics, defense attorneys, civil rights advocates, and major industry groups—including Songwriters of North America, the Black Music Action Coalition, The Recording Academy, and others. Together we banded together under the name “Free Our Art”, led by music manager Kevin Liles and co-led by myself and Prophet. In recent years, the coalition has built a broad, bipartisan alliance and pushed lawmakers to act. This week, in a full-circle moment, Maryland became only the third state to pass a law reevaluating the use of creative works in criminal proceedings. The bill is now on the desk of Gov. Wes Moore, who is expected to sign it.
With its signing, Maryland’s Protecting Artists’ Creative Expression (PACE) Act will follow California and Louisiana, which have already passed similar legislation in 2022 and 2023 after deploying BMAC, SONA and later Free Our Art. What is crucial is that the regulation sets clear standards for when creative works may be admitted as evidence in criminal proceedings.
820 cases since the eighties
The law addresses a growing concern among the music industry, legal scholars and civil rights activists: rap lyrics have been used almost exclusively against black and brown artists in more than 820 cases since the 1980s. The PACE Act aims to limit bias in the courtroom and strengthen First Amendment protections that are too often ignored today. Once signed, the bill would limit the use of artistic expression as evidence to narrowly defined legal exceptions. Any creative work that the prosecution wishes to present as evidence must be presented to the judge before a jury trial even begins. It would only be admissible if the defendant clearly meant the work literally, if it contains specific facts that are related to the alleged act, if it is directly relevant to a disputed point and if its evidential content outweighs any unfair prejudice.
Race has always influenced how rap lyrics are interpreted in the legal system. Courts have often fundamentally misunderstood the history, purpose and cultural significance of rap in America – a musical form that emerged in the South Bronx in the 1970s as a response to poverty, unemployment, gang violence, social exclusion and state despotism. While the justice system is beginning to correct the problem—by overturning convictions where rap lyrics were wrongly used—that’s not justice, that’s damage control. We need real protection up front. That’s exactly what the PACE Act stands for.
And the tailwind is growing: New York, Georgia and Missouri are already discussing their own laws to protect artistic freedom.
Black art deserves protection
Black art forms deserve the same legal protection as any other creative expression. But previous rulings — including the Montague case in Maryland — have exposed black artists to a bias rooted in a lack of understanding and, all too often, a refusal to engage with the culture at all. Research shows that rap, a predominantly black genre, is more often perceived by jurors as more threatening, dangerous and realistic. The result: Black expression is seen as evidence of criminality, while white artists in other genres, such as country, who deal with similar themes, enjoy artistic freedom. In the courtroom, slang, common references and race can influence jurors far beyond the actual evidence.
Artists like Tupac Shakur, Public Enemy, NWA and Kendrick Lamar have always used hip-hop to tell stories and denounce injustice. This tradition is the foundation of the genre and should not be confused with a confession. Black artists must have the opportunity to express fear and anger, process trauma, and describe lived experiences without having these expressions condemn them in court. It is precisely this limit that the law wants to protect.
With the PACE Act now clearing the final hurdles, Maryland has a chance to correct a long-standing imbalance in the legal system. If it goes into effect, it will set a clear benchmark – one that other states should follow.
Dina LaPolt is an entertainment attorney, activist and co-founder of Songwriters of North America; Willie “Prophet” Stiggers is Chairman and CEO of the Black Music Action Coalition. Special thanks to Loyola Law School student Kayla Ruff.
