Playing the Game

With the release of his second album, rapper Jayceon Taylor soldiers on despite a nasty feud with his mentors and former main men. But a gangsta will do what a gangsta must do. So a word of advice: don't ever count The Game out, says Jim Carroll.

LL EYES are on him. Of course, if you believe what Jayceon Taylor has to say, all eyes have always been on him. It's been this way ever since he first took on the mantle of The Game.

Taylor was the centre of attention back in 2005, when he made such a grand entrance with The Documentary album. This Compton newcomer had game like no one else around. Of course, with Dr Dre and 50 Cent by his side and helping shape the album, The Game's debut was always going to be a winner.

Yet such superstar assistance is just half the story. Taylor's fascination with his neighbourhood's gangsta glory days was evident from the get-go. His respect for those rappers who had come before him informed his sharp wordplay and wry observational tales about hustling and grinding on the mean streets. Beats from Dre just added to the sense of occasion.

But that was then. That was when everyone was on the same page of the Game book. That was when sweetness and light ruled the ether. That was when The Game was the name Interscope ballers such as Jimmy Iovine liked to drop over power lunches.

There's been a great deal of trouble at the goldmine since The Documentary dropped. His second album has just gone on release and much has changed. The grand alliance between Game, Dre and Fiddy? Gone.The rapper's allegiance to the G-Unit cause which Interscope boss Iovine thought was a good idea? Over. The Game as the pin-up boy for Interscope/Aftermath's way of doing things in the hip-hop universe? Kaput.

"I'm hard-headed, I do what I want to do, man," says Taylor at one stage about all that has happened between albums. No word of a lie there, bud.

Once The Game had been unceremoniously turfed from Fiddy's G-Unit gang, the Compton boy decided to stick it to his former mentor. Any opportunities for Taylor to have a go at or lampoon Fiddy were grabbed with both hands. Verbal spats between the pair became common currency.

There were times when the drama could have turned into a pantomime. One such occasion was on The Game's Stop Snitchin', Stop Lyin' DVD from last year. A naturally one-sided view of the feud between the two sides, it did provoke some unintentional chuckles.

The funniest scene comes when The Game pays a secret visit to Fiddy's Connecticut mansion. He hops over the wall to get into the compound. Then, he plays some basketball on the court, breaks the hoop and scarpers for the exit like a kid who has smashed a window.

Considering the violent end to previous hip-hop beefs involving rival rappers with ants in their pants, you have to wonder where this is going. A gunfight between rival entourages outside a New York radio station was a sign that this pissing contest could well have a tragic ending. A truce was called between the two sides, but it wasn't long before The Game got angsty and clipped Fiddy's ear again.

Naturally, The Game blames the other side for the ongoing bitter bickering. "They were trying to end my career and I was just trying to stay alive," he protests. "I had to fight back. If it dies down I'll let it die down. But if 50 keeps throwing wood to the fire I'll bring my wood until we burn the house down for sure."

In hip-hop, such front is everything. Bravado is what connects you to the streets when you've left for the mansion on the hill. The Game may have sold five million copies of his debut album and may now live in a more fashionable and peaceful area of Los Angeles, but he still has to maintain that front and keep a connection to his roots. After all, if he stops keeping it real, another hungry rapper will happily jump in to fill the gap.

Taylor knows he would be a mark if he still lived in Compton.

"C'mon man, I'd be a target. They'd see me and just see the money. I got a family so I got to think about them now. I can't go do the same things that I used to do. It's just not my reality. But that's where I come from and that will never change."

Taylor had plenty to rap about when he first picked up a microphone. The son of gang members, it was inevitable that he would also end up on the streets. Two of his brothers were shot and killed in gang violence, but even that didn't dissuade Taylor from grabbing a piece of the action. Stealing cars, shooting rival street thugs and dealing drugs became his lot.

He says he doesn't intend his rhymes to glorify that lifestyle. "It's my story, it's what happened to me. I'm not telling anybody to sell drugs or pick up guns. When I picked up a gun it was because my life was threatened. I'm not glorifying the life I lived because I wouldn't wish that on anybody. I'm just one human being raised in the 'hood who wanted nothing more than to get out."

It was while recovering from a near-fatal shooting in 2001 that The Game found his way out. He spent months just lying on his bed listening to and absorbing hip-hop's classic albums. Once that canon got under his skin, he knew it was what he wanted to do.

"See, I knew that I had something to say. A lot of today's rap is just bullshit. It says nothing and means nothing. Everybody's rapping, but they're not saying anything. NWA, Biggie, Tupac, Snoop and Jay-Z all had something to say. Then Biggie, Pac and Eazy died and it was devastating. I feel like it's my turn now, and I can fill the shoes."

A big claim for an entry-level rapper, but The Game's early tryouts proved he could live up to that boast. His freestyles attracted the attentions of Dr Dre, who signed him to his Aftermath label (this was after Puff Daddy considered helping The Game out with a record deal) and The Documentary was prepped for release.

But Dre is no longer in the picture. While he may be featured in the title of the new album (The Doctor's Advocate), he had nothing to do with the sounds on it. Instead, Kanye West, Just Blaze, Scott Storch and Swizz Beatz are the producers who worked up a sweat for The Game.

The rapper addresses the issue of his missing mentor on the title track, apologising for turning his back on the man to whom he claims he owes his life. But while Taylor might have every right to feel disappointed by seeing his mentor siding with his foes, he prefers to keep his Game face on.

"Dre's not on the album because I don't want anybody claiming that Dre's the reason I'm selling records," he says, a little unconvincingly. "It's me on my own, so if you love the album then I'll get all the praise.

"I'm glad there's no 50 Cent on this album or no Dre beats because nobody can give them props for the success of this album then. I'm doing my thing. I'm about to put my stamp on hip-hop in a real way."

He still appreciates what Dre did for him. "Dre signed me and gave me the opportunity to make millions of dollars, which I have done. All I can do is be thankful towards Dre. But at the same time, you can't take what has happened personally."

These days, The Game likes to portray himself as a bit of a loner. He has his own Black Wall Street posse of wannabe gangstas to rival the G-Unit cabal, but membership in the Game's gang doesn't seem very high. His older brother has also been on his case, whinging online that the rapper abandoned him when fame came by. Add in the assorted pickles with G-Unit, Dre and Fiddy and it's no wonder Taylor sometimes seems paranoid.

"My back has been against the wall this past while," he says. "I really felt like I was alone, that it was me against the rest of the world. Hip-hop is a business and none of those you meet are your real friends, so that's why I have none. I felt I knew how Tupac felt, man, before he got killed. I was so far gone that I just didn't care what anyone said or thought."

All of this angst hasn't stopped The Game from plotting future business plans. He talks about the movies, CDs and DVDs due soon from his Black Wall Street business. Then there's the now obligatory fashion lines, including the Fly Boy clothing range and Hurricane sneakers.

Unfortunately for The Game, the sneakers were launched in the weeks after Hurricane Katrina demolished New Orleans. "We donated a portion of each sale from the shoe to Hurricane Katrina relief funds and we're still doing that to this day, even though so many other people have forgotten about what happened in New Orleans."

Yet, in spite of such setbacks and the off-stage distractions caused by scrapping with his peers, The Game has no intention of going quietly. As far as he's concerned, hip-hop needs him. Hell, he says, he's going to save hip-hop.

"Yes, I really believe that, man. The rap game has got so bad that I feel I'm the one who can save hip-hop. I can't let it die. People think hip-hop is about big chains and big cars and big asses. That's bullshit. I'm a child of hip-hop and I got to keep it alive for my kids and their kids.

"It isn't about me any more - it's bigger than that."

The Doctor's Advocate is out now on Interscope