“Show & Prove”: The Legendary Story of Big Daddy Kane‘s 1994 Posse Cut

“Show & Prove” is a testament to the camaraderie that helps push emcees to greater heights.
Author:
Publish date:

In 1994, when Big Daddy Kane unleashed “Show & Prove,” the first single from his penultimate LP Daddy’s Home, the world reacted with muted praise. The record wasn’t a chart-topper or a summer anthem, or even a cult classic. It originated no famed phrases, introduced no legendary artists, and ushered in no new musical movements. Nonetheless, “Show & Prove” united six diverse emcees in a lyrical showdown presided over by one of hip-hop’s most influential wordsmiths, and bridged the generational gap that would soon push Kane from the LP game.

In the 25 years since its release, “Show & Prove” has become a cross-section of a singular cultural moment and an intersection of talent. Some of the song’s participants have since become legendary figures, others have been rendered obsolete and left in obscurity. “Show & Prove” is a testament to both the volatility of the rap game and the camaraderie of the craft itself; a contest where the object is a spectacle and the real winner is the audience.

***

The story of “Show & Prove” begins with Big Daddy Kane, the onetime member of Marley Marl’s Juice Crew and battle-hardened rap lothario. Before the release of his 1988 debut, Long Live The Kane, one of hip-hop’s archetypal playboys cut his teeth as a writer for friend and collaborator Biz Markie.

In the seven years between ‘88 and ‘94, Kane had a starring role in a handful of legendary posse cuts. The first, Marley Marl’s “The Symphony,” united four members of The Juice Crew—Masta Ace, Kool G Rap, Craig G, and Kane—in a brash exercise that came to define the song structure of the posse cut. The record offers up verse after verse without as much as a cursory hook or catchy refrain. Though a hip-hop sensation, “The Symphony” wasn’t built for commercial dominance, eschewing the pop-rap tricks of the late ‘80s for relentless lyricism and competitive one-upmanship.

The competitive spirit on “The Symphony” underpinned the influx of high-profile posse cuts that emerged at the start of the next decade. Kane appeared on both Marley Marl’s “The Symphony Part II” and Heavy D’s “Don’t Curse” in 1991, and eventually hosted his own with “Come On Down,” a Prince of Darkness track co-starring Q-Tip and Busta Rhymes. In 1994, however, he presided over a far more legendary assemblage, this time under the lights at Madison Square Garden. 

A performer on the touring Budweiser Superfest, Kane invited four emcees up on stage for a live freestyle. “Where’s Tupac and Biggie Smalls?” bellows Kane, the audience rising to a fever pitch as Biggie, Pac, and Big Scoob step into view. Even amongst these soon-to-be adversaries, the most peculiar addition on stage that evening was 14-year-old Wu affiliate, Shyheim Franklin. “He was like fifteen years old,” Kane recalled in 2014, “too young to be on a tour sponsored by a beer company.”

Big Daddy Kane’s career, if not his reputation, was quietly being shaped by posse cuts. These records enshrined him as a leader amongst the Juice Crew, cast him as a mentor to the up-and-coming greats, and rendered him a role model for a new generation. These qualities would come to a head with “Show & Prove.”

***

In crafting “Show & Prove,” Kane invited three protégés: Big Scoob, his former backup dancer; JAY-Z, a 23-year old talent from Brooklyn; and Shyheim, the Wu prodigy who’d made a lasting impression on his senior tourmate. Sauce Money, one of Jay’s childhood friends and collaborators, also joined the fray. As did Ol’ Dirty Bastard, the manic trailblazer hot off his star turn on Enter The Wu-Tang (36 Chambers)

For these six emcees to link up on wax, they’d need a beat. That’s where the legendary DJ Premier comes in. In late 1994, hip-hop fans primarily knew the Houston-born producer as one-half of the legendary duo Gang Starr, but beginning in 1993, Premier began building a production discography featuring work with Mobb Deep, KRS-One, Da Youngstas, and Nas, as well as a remix of Shyheim’s “On & On.” Three months before the release of “Show & Prove,” he dropped his first front-to-back solo production, Jeru the Damaja’s The Sun Rises In The East. Though Preemo had long been a staple of the East Coast, his legend was starting to expand beyond his work with Guru.

“Show & Prove” embodies classic boom-bap. The repetitive, looping instrumental anchors the performances with compelling simplicity, while the scratched refrain functions as an abbreviated hook. That phrase—“Bust a move, we show and prove”—comes courtesy of Slick Rick on Doug E. Fresh’s “The Show.”

A classic recording in its own right, “The Show” is a supreme example of hip-hop showmanship and itself a watershed moment in hip-hop history. Rick’s boast that “tonight on this very mic you’re about to hear... the best darn rappers of the year” is more than just empty braggadocio. “The Show” introduced his vivid, charming strain of hip-hop storytelling to the world.

DJ Premier lifts the sample from a similarly bold lyric:

Slick Rick and ‘em rock the house you know what I’m saying / And when I’m on the mic there won’t be no delaying / Bust a move, we show and prove...

In keeping with Rick’s philosophy, all six emcees firmly anchor their contributions on “Show & Prove” to the microphone. Preemo’s beat, while compelling, plays out without embellishments or ad-libs. If the producer is a sonic architect, then “Show & Prove” is a freestanding foundation: a primed arena in which each emcee assembles their vision. “I thought it was just going to be Kane and me,” Preemo told Complex in 2011. “Then he just started calling everybody. ‘Yo, ODB come up here. Yo, JAY-Z come up here. Shyheim…’ Everybody just started coming up, and they all started spitting. And I was like, ‘Damn, how many people are we going to put on this thing?’”

Six, all in all. The first emcee to seize the microphone is Scoob, his nasal tone a jarring start to the outright lyrical showcase. Sauce Money is next, flaunting a percussive delivery and effortless braggadocio in an intricate verse. Shyheim, the youngest of the crew, rocks the mic with the same fearsome command of emcees a decade his senior, a fact that would quickly endear him to grown artists.

Big Daddy Kane’s verse, the fourth, may be the most multifaceted on the cut, as he plays with presence and delivery in a uniquely old school fashion. A young JAY-Z alternates between his fast-paced, machine-gun raps and the more steady measure that would soon become his resting tenor, filled with punchlines and prescient claims to supremacy. Finally, Ol’ Dirty Bastard’s closer finds the Wu-Tang wild card pushing up against the very limits of emceeing convention, flipping between his anarchic rapping and warbling singing on a dime.

The dynamic versatility on display throughout “Show & Prove” is but a piece of the track’s greater legacy. Consider the collision of unlikely talents at a unique time in their respective careers: 

  • JAY-Z was unsigned, a mentee of Big Daddy Kane, and two years out from releasing his classic debut, Reasonable Doubt.
  • Sauce Money, another Marcy upstart mentored by Kane, was sharpening his skills alongside Jay, though the pair would later split over a Roc-A-Fella deal that Sauce never took up, citing a falling out with label co-founder Dame Dash.
  • Scoob Lover was pivoting from backup dancer to supporting emcee, and his years alongside Kane would come to represent the peak of his career.
  • Shyheim was coming off his greatest commercial success, relishing in what would be a fleeting reputation
  • ODB’s “Show & Prove” appearance arrived between 36 Chambers and the first Wu-Tang solo effort, Method Man’s Tical.

***

Following the one-off barfest in 1994, the careers of all six participants went in wildly divergent directions. JAY-Z’s ascension needs no elaboration. The entrepreneurial emcee rose above the station of musician, transforming to a figurehead, mentor, cultural diplomat, and one-person creative powerhouse. His friend Sauce Money, on the other hand, opted against signing with Roc-A-Fella in the mid-’90s, a decision that would prove to have a substantial effect on his career. A general distrust of label co-founder Dame Dash led Sauce Money to sign with Priority Records, with whom he released his sole LP, Middle Finger U, in 2000.

Ol’ Dirty Bastard lived an increasingly eccentric life, filled with equal parts radical artistry and harsh tragedy. In 2004, the legendary emcee died of a drug overdose at age 35. Shyheim, the youngest of the troupe, experienced difficulties with sales, creative control, and the law. At the turn of the century, after having dropped three albums, Shyheim was charged with attempted robbery. He returned with five projects between ‘04 and ‘11 but was arrested in January 2014 for his role in a fatal hit-and-run. He’s currently serving a 14-year prison sentence.

Scoob Lover, Kane’s backup dancer-turned-rapper, never rose beyond his supporting role. His mid-’90s deal with Cold Chillin’ brought forth little more than a few novel singles. Though he reemerged in the early 2000s, we chiefly remember Scoob for his role as an early-’90s sidekick. As for Kane? He returned in 1998 with Veteranz’ Day; a record presaged with the very acknowledgment the was no longer a fresh-faced trendsetter. The only record in Kane’s catalog to not impact the Billboard 200, Veteranz’ Day is the last full statement from the hip-hop titan. That said, Kane is still dropping verses, and they’re still great.

Simultaneously, “Show & Prove” looked back at the block parties from which hip-hop emerged, out at the burgeoning and multifaceted rap scene of the mid-’90s, and forward at the emcees of the future. The record is a testament to the camaraderie that helps push emcees to greater heights, a shining example of intergenerational tutelage, a torch ceremony and a sacred observance all at once, and a distillation of hip-hop’s very essence. It’s also a snapshot of a singular cultural moment, enshrining a time when Big Daddy Kane was shopping an unsigned JAY-Z, Scoob Lover was a peer of top-shelf emcees, Sauce Money still called Jay a friend, Ol’ Dirty Bastard was still furiously spreading his delightfully unhinged vision of hip-hop, and Shyheim was a prodigious underaged emcee filled with promise.

“Show & Prove” remains a collage of opportunity and potential—one that has given way to legendary successes and shocking fallouts. Each contribution is a testament to the difficult nature of the music industry and the unpredictable march of time. Where will hip-hop be in another quarter-century, and how will moments of cultural crossover reflect the time in which we’re living? Is the next JAY-Z little more than a protege of the rap icon, or is the next teenaged sensation a chance encounter away from a breakout cosign? Who amongst us will make it big, and who will fall by the wayside? Most pressingly, who will be here, and who will have left us?

Only time will tell. 

Related