Hard to believe it’s been 15 years, but the rap world tragically said goodbye to Christopher Lee Rios on February 7, 2000.
Few rappers have ever left behind a legacy more majestic than Big Punisher did. Aside from being (in the eyes of most, myself included) unquestionably the greatest Latino emcee of all time, Pun is actually one of the great lyricists the game has ever seen, from any demographic. The tongue-twisting tales told by the Bronx-born Pun put him on par with any of the great rhymers from the mid/late 90’s, aka “The Golden Era of Hip-Hop”. He proved this time and again by going bar-for-bar on records with future legends, like he did on “John Blaze”.
Even though he put Terror Squad on the map, Pun also carried a records on his own rather easily. This was evidenced on his lone non-posthumous album, Capital Punishment, released on April 28, 1998. The LP was Grammy nominated and was the first Latin hip-hop record to go platinum. With songs like the headliner “Still Not A Player” and the under the radar lyrical masterpieces like “Super Lyrical” (feat. Black Thought), Pun demonstrated an uncanny ability to tightrope the fine line of critical acclaim and commercial success.
Sidebar: I can remember buying that album from a Sam Goody in Washington D.C. for $18.00 + tax. My how times have changed.
Of course, Pun was well known for his collabs with fellow Puerto Rican poet Fat Joe. Although there were several, none better depicted Pun’s trademark iconic flow than “Twinz (Deep Cover 98)”, an ALL-TIME wordplay exhibition off Capital Punishment.
Gone at the age of just 28, Pun’s imprint on the rap game is, to this day, immeasurable. He waived the flag (literally) for Latinos in hip-hop, he set a new standard for lyricism and quickly earned respect of rappers in the east and west, at a time where bicoastal rap relations were still frigid to say the least. And although his size contributed to his untimely demise, in death he influenced other rappers who have struggled with weight issues to better monitor their health, like Rick Ross, Joell Ortiz and the aforementioned Fat Joe.
A decade and a half after his passing, the rhymes are still dope and the music still bangs. Making timeless music in a genre that has long valued evolution over convention is an incredibly admirable accomplishment, which is why Big Pun deserved to be mentioned right next to Biggie Smalls, Tupac and Big L in every “dead or alive” conversation involving rap’s elite.
Rest easy, Pun. We still miss you.