The roots of hip hop in boxing are subjective; we all have our ideas about the exact time that rap's artistry and the Sweet Science merged. I submit the 1984 USA Olympic team as the beginning of  Hip Hop attitude making its way into boxing because it coincides with rap's acceptance as a mainstream (code for "money makin'") genre.

Run DMC struck B-Boy stance, rocked the shell-toed Adidas and made it clear to MTV executives that it was lucrative to bankroll rap as the new urban rebel music. I was 16, and I remember Mike and Prince had just broken ground on the network; but most of our heroes were being seen on BET.

The 1984 Team had 3 fighters that captured the style, ethic and swagger of a new generation of black kids who didn't hunger for "rights," but status. I related to Meldrick Taylor; the Philadelphia prodigy with mercury-quick hands, too damn young to know the levity of the stage and that kind of swagger resonated with fans of a genre breaking new ground. Pernell Whitaker was so slick, so defensively sound that he made the intricate look mundane -like Rakim's monotone, matter of fact delivery, letting MC's know they don't wanna try and battle him no more. Mark Breland was from the incubator of Hip Hop. Tall, rangy and lethal, he was supposed to be the era's ode (not answer) to what many in New York viewed as the immortal king of Harlem; Sugar Ray Robinson.

With a menacing alternate from the Catskills, this team pushed the ball forward as the first generation of "Hip Hop" pugilists. As boxers, all of them (technically) were rooted in tradition, so much so that we are still awaiting their equals. But stylistically, in terms of branding an image, the black boxer changed because these guys resembled their peers much more than those of previous generations.

It wasn't uncommon to see any of them rockin’ sweatsuits, high top fades with multiple parts and baseball hats. It seemed they were taking a cue from rappers in how to present themselves and us -more so than our predecessors- rooted for them as "homies," not as someone as grandly removed as Ray Leonard. I loved Leonard and Ali, but I never had a friend that reminded me of them, and therein lied the power of Hip Hop. Tyson, in his early years, also reminded me of someone I knew, and so did Mark Breland. When Tyson made the legendary ring-walk, no shirt, no socks, and cats my age heard Chuck D's bellowing voice indicting "the power" for crimes too varied to count, we got it. We got it because Mike was 21, angry and rudderless and to a large degree so were we. A quick search of any hip hop lyric database would probably yield the fact that the words "Like Tyson" were used by many late 80's rappers when they wanted to establish dominance.

It is no coincidence that Tyson's imprint on mainstream culture as a force to be reckoned with coincided with what many music historians believe to be the "Golden age of Hip Hop."

In 1988, Seoul, Korea, over a decade before Nelly spit "Country Grammar" and Southern Hip Hop became common place, Roy Jones burst on the scene doing things similar to Hip Hop production. By this time rap hits were derivatives of existing songs, whereby the DJ/ Producer sliced, distorted and pieced together foreign compositions with native grooves. Roy Jones took raw speed and athleticism and somehow removed essential boxing rudiments like jabs and body work. In the early years, he (like Rap) infuriated traditionalist values. He would later fight in the first Hip Hop championship vs. James Toney in 1994. I call it that because it was the fight that young rap fans argued about in the barber shops, the fight that entered into the studio while my friends and I recorded our second album. Gangsta Rap was looming, and all of the consciousness and innovation was giving way to another real circumstance of our urban communities: violence. Boxing had Iran Barkley and James Toney, two reminders that the sport has always been a legitimate haven for those who might otherwise be incarcerated. Interestingly enough, with the emergence of Snoop Dogg, Ice-T and Tupac Shakur, Hip Hop was starting to take on some of that distinction.

Hip Hop is unlike any other genre in music because there is a potential for danger. Authenticity and tough guy credentials are routinely challenged as they are (understandably) in boxing. Whatever the case, I believe that part of the fusion between boxing and Hip Hop is that sometimes they draw from the same talent pool. Who knows? Maybe in years past Shakur would have been a welterweight and Dr. Dre would have been a tall Light Heavyweight.

Now we are faced with the present day influence of Hip Hop on boxing and the business of models in boxing. The genre has gifted us with many young, black millionaires and a handful have taken it to the next level and become moguls. Through apparel, multimedia efforts and establishing labels to get out from under oppressive royalty rates, rappers have become the model for pound for pound boxing champion Floyd Mayweather, Jr. From his much publicized split from Top Rank, and the formation of Mayweather Promotions, Floyd is making an earnest attempt to to become a businessman.

No stranger to the Hip Hop scene, Floyd is homies with "Fiddy" and has been ripped by rappers like Rick Ross on battle tracks. He lives a lifestyle in which excess is promoted and he attracts the attention of  Hip Hop's mogul elite set; guys like Diddy and Jay Z came out to represent Floyd when he fought Marquez because they respect winning.

In the late 90's, once Shakur and Smalls were laid to rest, winning, complete with diamond goblets and "arm candy" became the standard for Hip Hop imagery, and the word "bling" entered mainstream lexicon. To a young champion being groomed to be the Ray Leonard of the 90's, a prodigy complete with the scars of a jailed father, affluence (and flaunting it) seemed more practical than likeability.

 "Blinging" for real.... 

Remember, what was once Boogie Down Productions and Public Enemy was now Cash Money Millionaires and a host of clicks that were borrowed from and glamorized the Mafia. Being the most skilled MC lost its allure and it was quickly replaced with who had the most money. That Floyd has a record company called Filthy Rich plays into the Hip Hop racial stereotype satire by Dave Chappelle's hilarious "If  Black Folks got Reparations" skit. Floyd Mayweather, at age 32, is struggling to break through to maturity from a generation that popularized schizophrenia and collecting depreciating assets - aka Bentleys.  Yet, Mayweather's maniacal discipline in his chosen field is a redeeming (old school)  quality, so concrete that it may provide him the skills to translate it to other parts of his life. Surely many of you reading this are of the Hip Hop generation and can't find any part of your daily life where you have the discipline of a Floyd Mayweather.

Mayweather, along with Juan Manuel Marquez just generated over one million buys on HBO pay per view and he is at a crossroads.  As Hip Hop sales decline from 40% of the market share to 10%, Mayweather is being called to task by fans who have grown weary of his commerce only business model. For the most part, when rappers have "beef" it is for the most part assumed that both MC's are wealthy; preeminence with the public is what they battle for. Floyd is surely going to generate more public scorn in coming months and will certainly get most of the blame if negotiations with Pacquiao (for March 2010?) break down. He is bound to lose momentum in public perception simply because of the gold plated image he has built for himself, whether he's matured or not. The way he willfully packaged himself, was deliberate and genuine and you can hear it in the way he points to what he perceives to be De La Hoya's hypocrisy.

"Fifty Cent" and Mayweather