So why Marley? Marley is my karma. Remember the Bridge Wars, the battle tracks? BDP vs. the Juice Crew? Now, Marl and I were always friends. But we started off battling, no doubt. Real in the field. Queens vs. the Bronx. It was bad for a second. But we got past it. And we never drew guns or made it heavier.

Because that wasn't the code 20 years ago. Right. There were principles. You never saw Roxanne Shante and U.T.F.O. going at it real time, did you? No. We had answer records to our beef. Competition was fierce. But 20 years later, after Criminal Minded, I wanted to do something to celebrate that moment. So when someone suggested Marl, I felt a karmic relief. I wanted to rid myself of a rivalry with someone I didn't have a rivalry with in the first place. Old mythologies might work for our culture, but who needs to live mythology. So no more Bridge Wars.

I had a conversation with a young emcee the other day, and he mentioned that he's against the blood diamond trade and the violence surrounding such in Sierra Leone. But if he rapped about that in his lyrics, he'd lose his audience. So his songs glorify bling. What do you think of people who won't sing what they believe because they'll lose sales? I speak the truth - consciously - that we is all we know. But remember that's as much about the record executives who want to make sure you'll get sales or get on radio. So the question is, has the morality of the record execs dropped that far down? That's why hip-hop looks and sounds like it does in mass media, you know - because of the executives. They get all kinds of music all day. They're picking and choosing what they want to deal with. They're picking diamonds, cars, and glitz. They're presenting hip-hop like this.

You had to make that choice in leaving Jive - to an extent - after it went to *NSYNC and Britney. I did. I was with them for a while until they signed the Backstreets and such. I sold a lot of records. They wanted me to stay there, too. But they wanted me to fit into the new Jive Records. No man. I'm hip-hop.

Not the nice kind. [Laughs] Yes. Now, I lost millions of dollars, millions leaving Jive. I was doing fine. But I wound up as the head of A&R for hip-hop at Reprise, the label started by the great Frank Sinatra. I had a five million-dollar budget, credit cards, made $300,000 a year signing old school cats like Kool Herc and Kool Moe D. But it got to a point where I had to decide whether I was an executive or a rapper. "Do you live a corporate life or a hip-hop life? Kris, answer the question."

And the answer is, here you are sitting with me. Right. But there was another side. I have three kids. And I could help hip-hop by signing good acts. But I had to have the courage to be the real me. I represent and live by my spiritual principles, so if the material word falls apart, my spiritual world stays intact. So if you don't play my record or put me on the cover, I'm grateful, because at the end of the day, I'm doing it. Change your lyrics, change your flow - it's OK. You might lose your money. But those who chase money will never be more advanced than those who chase principals.

So you respect anyone who does the bling-bang-ho-bitch game? I have to. It's hip-hop. "Put the ice on." I got to respect it. Can't judge it. I'll even support it. But as someone who lives as if he is a superior being, who believes he's leading hip-hop culture, who believes he has a 20-year career that's influenced half the cats today, I can't do it. But to each his own. Let that civilization do what they do. I do this for the love.

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