Brooklyn-bred and battle-tested, Maino has always carried his borough like a badge of honor. Whether he’s talking top 5 MCs or the transition from prison to rap prominence, there’s an authenticity in his voice that you can’t fabricate. On today’s episode of Scoop B Radio, the “Hi Hater” rapper opened up about his journey, his views on hip-hop’s generational divide, and why he thinks some legends don’t always get the recognition they deserve.
Maino’s Top 5 Brooklyn Lyricists? No Debate.
Brooklyn’s hip-hop scene is known for its hard-hitting beats, clever wordplay, and a relentless hustle mentality that reflects the borough’s tough, diverse spirit. Beyond music, Brooklyn hip-hop has deeply impacted fashion, slang, and global culture, making it a continuous wellspring of innovation and influence. Whether through boom-bap classics or modern trap-infused anthems, Brooklyn remains a heartbeat of hip-hop’s past, present, and future.
Ask Maino for his Mount Rushmore of Brooklyn wordsmiths, and he doesn’t hesitate: “Big Daddy Kane, Biggie Smalls — that’s easy ’cause they all come from Bed-Stuy,” he said.
Then he adds more:
“Jay Z, Fabolous, Lil’ Kim.”
It’s a list rooted in culture, history, and pride — all pillars of what Brooklyn means to hip-hop.
The Lyric That Hooked Him — But Didn’t Spark the Dream
Falling in love with hip-hop is like discovering a world where every beat tells a story and every lyric hits deep. It’s more than just music — it’s a culture that speaks to struggle, triumph, identity, and expression. That first moment when a song’s rhythm grabs you, when the raw honesty of a rapper’s voice cuts through the noise, it sparks something real. Hip-hop invites you in with its mix of poetry and rhythm, street wisdom and celebration, creating a connection that feels personal and powerful.
Whether it’s the classic sounds of the 90s or the fresh vibes of today, falling for hip-hop is falling for a movement that constantly reinvents itself while staying true to its roots.
Before becoming a fixture in the New York rap scene, Maino was simply a fan immersed in the culture.
The first line that caught his ear? “I came in the door, I said it before,” he said.
That iconic Rakim bar from Eric B. Is President had an impact, but Maino keeps it real:
“That never made me want to be a rapper though. I was just so caught up in the culture and the music and streets and being outside and hearing the music. I didn’t want to be a rapper.”
It wasn’t until life forced reflection that he saw a new path.
“Later on in my life, I was in prison and I had a fucking vision of turning my whole situation around and becoming a rapper.”
No Influencers, No Co-Sign — Just Self-Made
Maino’s journey is the definition of self-made hustle — rising from the tough streets of Brooklyn to becoming a respected voice in hip-hop through sheer determination and grit. Before his breakthrough, Maino faced significant challenges, including time behind bars, but he used those experiences as fuel rather than setbacks. Without major industry backing early on, he built his career piece by piece, grinding relentlessly to earn respect and airtime. While most rappers cite seeing another MC up close as the spark for their dreams, Maino flipped the narrative:
“I didn’t meet no rappers. I didn’t know no rappers until I was actually a rapper.”
Hi Hater in the TikTok Era? Viral City.
Maino’s 2008 single “Hi Hater” is more than a radio-friendly anthem — it’s a powerful statement of perseverance and confidence. With its triumphant piano-driven beat and chant-style hook, the song reflects Maino’s rise from prison to prominence. As his breakout hit, “Hi Hater” struck a chord with listeners who’ve faced doubt or criticism, flipping negativity into motivation. Instead of letting hate bring him down, Maino used it as energy — turning a dismissive phrase into a proud acknowledgment of his success. The track became both a personal victory lap and a relatable message for anyone grinding through adversity.
“Hi Hater” was an anthem before “viral” became standard lingo.
Asked how that song would live today? “It would be viral,” he said.
“You didn’t have this flow of social media. People get up in the morning and the first thing they grab is their phone. They get the news, they get the information, they shop — they do everything on their phones.”
The Lox vs. Dipset Verzuz — No Regrets, Just Lessons
The Verzuz showdown between The Lox and Dipset at Madison Square Garden’s Hulu Theater on August 3, 2021, was a landmark event in hip-hop culture. While Dipset came in with a deep catalog of hits, it was The Lox who stole the show through sharp lyricism, tight performance, and undeniable chemistry. Jadakiss, in particular, commanded the stage, delivering standout verses and calling out Dipset’s use of backing tracks, which highlighted their lack of preparation. In contrast, The Lox moved fluidly between solo and group records, showcasing their unity and strategic song choices. The battle not only reaffirmed their legendary status but also sparked a major boost in streams, reintroducing them to a new generation and reminding longtime fans of their lyrical dominance.
Maino watched the legendary Verzuz battle like the rest of us — but with a seasoned perspective:
“It happened the way it was supposed to happen, though,” he said.
“You know what I mean? It is what it is. I believe in what’s meant to be, will be.”
Still, when pressed about how Dipset could’ve come harder, he offered a gem: “If me and you hang together every single day and we’re actually working together every single day, we’re touring all the time, then we’re going to be more in unison,” he shared.”
“It’s going to be more cohesive. But if we only come around every couple of months, twice a year, it’s not the same.”
Old Heads vs. New Wave? Maino Doesn’t Play That Game
The debate between old school and new school hip-hop is a conversation about roots versus evolution, tradition versus innovation. Old school hip-hop, rooted in the 70s, 80s, and early 90s, emphasizes raw lyricism, storytelling, and boom-bap beats that reflect street life and social realities. It’s the era of pioneers like Run-DMC, Rakim, and A Tribe Called Quest, where the culture was still forming and every rhyme carried weight. New school hip-hop, meanwhile, pushes boundaries with diverse sounds, from trap’s heavy bass and hi-hats to melodic flows and experimental production. Artists today blend genres, embrace digital platforms, and often focus on vibe and mood as much as message. Both styles honor hip-hop’s core spirit but differ in approach—old school celebrates the foundation, while new school drives the genre’s ongoing reinvention.
The “older vs. younger” rapper debate is ongoing, but Maino isn’t subscribing to it: “I ain’t on none of that,” he said.
“I don’t know. I can’t speak for some of the insecurities of other men… Allow the young niggas to be young niggas.”
His reasoning goes deeper than politics:“You gotta also remember I probably relate to the young niggas more,” he said.
“I was a young nigga when I went away, you understand? I came home with that type of energy.”
“At the end of the day, the advantage of being older — you got a chance to actually learn from what you’ve been through and learn from the young niggas. That’s the advantage.”
Maino’s Playlist: From Rob 49 to Lana Del Rey
One of the most inspiring aspects of hip-hop is how many rappers openly show love and respect as fans of their peers and predecessors. Despite the competitive nature of the game, artists often celebrate each other’s craft, recognizing the skill, creativity, and impact that fellow MCs bring to the culture. From public shout-outs and collaborations to dissecting bars in interviews, rappers pay homage to those who’ve influenced them or set new standards. This mutual admiration creates a sense of community and continuity within hip-hop, bridging generations and styles. It’s proof that beneath the bravado and rivalry, many rappers are first and foremost passionate fans, appreciating the art form and pushing each other to elevate the culture.
When it comes to what’s in his rotation, Maino’s taste runs wide: “I listen to them all, man,” he said.
“I like Rob 49. I love Lil Durk — free him — Lil Baby. You know, I work with a lot of these guys as well… I’ve done songs with these guys, so it’s cool.”
Outside of hip-hop, the playlist gets even more diverse: “I have been listening to a lot of [Lana] Del Rey,” he shared.
“I was just listening to it on the way here. PARTYNEXTDOOR. I love Yung Bleu. I’m rocking with Lil Durk.”
On Pharrell: Respect Without Regret
Pharrell Williams is a sonic architect whose production genius has shaped the sound of modern music for over two decades. As one half of The Neptunes and frontman of N.E.R.D., Pharrell’s fingerprints are on some of the most iconic hits across hip-hop, pop, and R&B — from Jay-Z’s “I Just Wanna Love U (Give It 2 Me)” to Britney Spears’ “I’m a Slave 4 U” to Kendrick Lamar’s “Alright.”
His genius lies in his ability to blend minimalist funk, futuristic textures, and unconventional rhythms into something both innovative and universally appealing. What sets Pharrell apart is his instinct to treat each beat like a mood board — emotionally resonant, sonically daring, and always ahead of the curve. His productions don’t just follow trends; they spark them. Whether it’s a four-count start or a layered synth, when Pharrell touches a track, it carries his signature — equal parts bounce, soul, and brilliance.
Would Maino ever want to work with Pharrell?
“I don’t know if I was ever hot enough for Pharrell,” he shared.
“I met him years ago. You know, we had some words, but I don’t know if I was ever in that pocket or if I was ever somebody that he was even thinking about, but I love what he did for NORE.”
And as for his favorite Neptunes track?
That’s easy:
“The early Clipse — ‘Grindin,’ he said.
“I’m a fan. I’m a fan of the music, man, period. Even if I wasn’t rapping I still am in it as a person that just loves the culture.”
On Remy Ma: A Mirror Reflection
Remy Ma is one of the most prominent female voices in hip-hop, known for her razor-sharp lyricism and unapologetic delivery. Hailing from the Bronx and breaking through with Terror Squad on the 2004 anthem “Lean Back,” Remy earned a reputation as a lyrical heavyweight — but not always the credit that comes with it.
When asked why Remy Ma doesn’t get her full lyrical due, Maino keeps it blunt — and personal: “We don’t always get our flowers in life,” he said.
“I’m under the impression that I don’t get all of mine.”
Like Maino, Remy’s story reflects the often-overlooked brilliance of artists who shape the culture from the trenches, with bars that bite and authenticity that runs deep.
Despite a six-year prison sentence and the industry’s shifting tides, Remy’s comeback and continued relevance underscore her status as a force in hip-hop — flowers or not.
Maino’s story is Brooklyn’s story — real, raw, and relentless. He’s walked through the fire, made his voice heard, and continues to bridge eras while holding onto what matters most: respect, the music, and the culture.
