New mixtapes from unknown artists seem to drop every hour on the hour. Inboxes and Twitter accounts are spammed regularly with the visibly low-budget YouTube of videos of rappers trying to make their mark. The market for hip-hop is one step beyond saturated. But if you’re lucky, you’ve waded through it all and found an MC or two with a distinct sound who actually have something to say. They are the rappers who paint vivid images of real life instead of selling dreams they think the audience will love. The good ones are rappers like DaVinci.

His debut album The Day the Turf Stood Still has gained attention for using jazz and soul based samples, where much of the West Coast leans towards funk. DaVinci’s flow stands out because it is more comparable to the East Coast’s early 90s heavy-hitters than the local artists he grew up on. But what really sets him apart from scores of up and coming rappers is that he tells the story of gentrification. Or as DaVinci puts it, the album is the sound track for urban renewal.

After one trip to his old neighborhood, hearing him spit “Around the corner up the street used to be the spot ‘til they replaced all the liquor stores with coffee shops and I ain’t saying it’s a bad thing but where I’m finna hustle at?” becomes more powerful. As we eat lunch he explains the transformation. Years ago this restaurant was an empty lot. Now it’s where family and friends meet to play catch up over a brunch of chicken, waffles, and soulful sides. Directly across the street another vacant lot has been converted. The café boasts sidewalk seating with umbrellas to shade from the summer sun.

“I’m from where hate is power and love is a weakness—you do wrong the right way they call you a genius.”

This is definitely not the same Fillmore he grew up in. Childhood summers were spent riding bikes around town, finding ways to hustle tourists, and block water fights. And a day wasn’t complete without a trip to see the candy lady. “She had everything from icies to candy bars, explains DaVinci. “Then she started selling video games and shoes, she really stepped her hustle game up. That was pretty much the culture. We looked at the older people and saw that everybody pretty much had some kind of hustle.”

“It was a whole lot different than what it is now,” explains DaVinci. Still, the 27 year-old former college athlete doesn’t romanticize or demonize the changes. His approach is much more leveled. “Fillmore has always been a place where you could get a little bit of everything,” he explains. “ You could get the slums right hear and then paradise three blocks away.”

It’s the sort of balanced view that comes with maturity and research. “When I was younger Fillmore meant to me was exactly what it was showing me,” he notes. “Fillmore was showing me drugs, violence, prostitution, and police brutality.” As he got older DaVinci learned that there was more to his neighborhood. “I started to look the history up on my own, and it gave me perspective.” In 2001 he decided it was time to share his views through his music.

So here we are and while DaVinci could have chosen a number of things to rap about, he made it his duty to make music with his neighborhood, outsiders, and younger generations in mind. He knows they are listening. “I may not be right with everything I say,” admits DaVinci, “but at least I have a broader view.”

Click here to watch Davinci's "What You Finna Do" video.

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