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Communing with the Based God

A notoriously eccentric rapper and cultural icon, Lil B discusses his upcoming mixtape, Thugged Out Pissed Off, his spiritual credos, and his aspirations for 2016.



East Bay rapper Lil B (Brandon McCartney), 26, has had one of the most unusual career trajectories in the music industry, and is perhaps one of the most influential yet easily dismissed artists out there today. Although he has a remarkably devoted fan base, his popularity still mystifies the uninitiated, and he continues to face backlash for his staunchly unorthodox approach to, well, pretty much everything.

For starters, Lil B, who grew up in Berkeley, has been manically prolific over the years, and at times, his volume of musical releases has reached an almost Shakespearean level. During the past six years, he has self-released dozens of mixtapes and thousands of songs, including an impressive five-gigabyte mixtape that contained more than 850 freestyles, which he dropped in 2012 in addition to several other album-length projects. While hip-hop purists have doubted Lil B's technical skills as a rapper, his idiosyncratic, unrehearsed-sounding flow was a precursor to the sing-song, adlib-filled style that dominates the radio today. Given the stylistic turns that hip-hop has taken in recent years, his early solo releases at the end of the Aughts and beginning of the 2010s have proven to be ahead of their time.

  • Bert Johnson

But rapping is just one of Lil B's occupations, and a large part of his appeal comes from his self-appointed role as a spiritual guru. His fans hail him as the Based God, and his eponymous philosophy, which he describes only with the adjective "based," centers on maintaining a positive outlook, respecting all living things, and staying curious about all that life has to offer.

Although Lil B doesn't explicitly brand himself as a religious leader, his social media following is vast and cult-like. He frequently posts affirmations, life advice, and Based God-centric memes on Twitter and Facebook to the adulation of millions of followers. When he follows fans back, they often respond with the fervor of someone who spotted the Virgin Mary's silhouette on a piece of toast. Dedicated fans call themselves the Bitch Mob and sign posts with #ProtectLilB and #TYBG (Thank You Based God). He has given guest lectures akin to religious sermons at UCLA, MIT, and NYU that have included teachings such as, "Pay attention to bugs and insects and how they vibe."

Then, there's Lil B's role as a cultural commentator. Because of his large social media presence, he gained national attention for levying a "curse" on Oklahoma City Thunder forward Kevin Durant after the basketball star decried Lil B's musical ability on Twitter. The Thunder subsequently failed to win an NBA championship, and Durant has been plagued by a series of injuries, prompting memes and internet lore about the Based God's curse. After Lil B cursed Houston Rockets player James Harden last spring for imitating the rapper's signature cooking dance without attribution, the Golden State Warriors won the Western Conference Finals against the Rockets, and the rest was history.

The uncanniness of the Based God curse prompted several major sports outlets, including ESPN and CBS Sports, to interview Lil B about his seemingly supernatural powers. As more media outlets picked up the story, the national spotlight on this curious public figure even led several news networks — including CNN and MSNBC — to interview Lil B about his predictions for the 2016 presidential election. (He's voting for Bernie Sanders, though he confirmed that Hillary Clinton has not been cursed.)

How an unsigned, DIY artist could become such a bizarre and powerful cultural icon continues to befuddle casual observers. But after spending an afternoon with Lil B, I came to realize that one of the main reasons his multitudes of followers are so drawn to him — other than the music and the memes — is his willingness to be publicly vulnerable and, in doing so, affirm others' experiences and struggles.

  • Bert Johnson

Indeed, when Lil B came to the Express' office in Oakland for a photo shoot, I was surprised by his immediate warmth and openness. After he put on a playlist of his favorite Antony and the Johnsons songs, our conversation turned to personal topics at times as the band's melancholic piano ballads played in the background. We even chatted about what music we like to cry to, our favorite Facebook emojis (we both love the chubby, cartoon cat Pusheen), weird body insecurities, and other secrets I would only ever disclose to my closest friends. It was then that I realized that there's not really a code you have to crack to get Lil B: You pretty much just have to be open to his kindness.

"I feel like when I speak unfiltered, people respond to it in a good way," said Lil B, reflecting on his recent mainstream media attention. "When I speak how I feel, I get rewarded for it — whether people love what I say, don't understand what I say, or go against what I'm saying."

Despite the fact that fans and the media have mythologized and even deified Lil B, there are plenty of contradictions in his messaging. While many of his songs promote positive thinking and social justice, some of his lyrics also have blatantly misogynistic themes that seem incompatible with his overall happy-go-lucky, pacifist public persona.

On one hand, there are tracks like "All Women" from his mixtape Rain in England, on which he celebrates women of all ages, ethnicities, shapes, and sizes, rhyming, Have you appreciated a woman's knowledge?/Pay attention to her comments. But then there are farcically offensive lyrics on songs such as "Swag My Bitch Up" — on which Lil B says I respect women/And I respect all people/But I don't love hoes/They suck dick and they're evil — or "Murder Rate," where he raps If you don't twerk we gon' up the murder rate.