Attorney Brian Steel has renewed his criticism of prosecutors using rap lyrics in criminal cases, framing the practice as a free-expression issue with unequal consequences for rap artists. Speaking with T.I. on the expediTIously podcast, Steel argued that lyrics should not be treated as literal accounts simply because they were written or performed by an accused person.
Steel, whose high-profile work has included representing Young Thug and Lil Durk, placed rap alongside other art forms that can contain violence, fictional characters, heightened language, and uncomfortable subject matter without being assumed to document real conduct. His central objection is not merely that rap lyrics can be provocative; it is that prosecutors, in his view, single out rap in a way they do not apply to literature, opera, country music, or rock.
“The prosecutors don't take William Shakespeare's words as reality,” Steel said. “The prosecutors don't take Stephen King. The prosecutors don't use opera or country music or hard rock and roll, but they use rap. It's discrimination.”
Steel’s argument is about expression, not just genre
At the heart of Steel’s comments is a basic distinction: expression is not automatically evidence of a real-world act. A lyric may be personal, invented, exaggerated, written from a character’s point of view, or designed to create a mood. Those possibilities do not disappear when the artist is facing criminal allegations.
Steel’s comparison to Shakespeare and Stephen King makes that point in plain terms. People generally understand a novel, play, or song can depict murder, threats, criminality, or fear without functioning as a confession by its author. His criticism is that rap is too often treated differently—read literally, stripped of artistic context, and presented in a setting where a jury may attach exceptional weight to the words.
That concern has special resonance because rap is a form built around voice and persona. An artist can speak in the first person without presenting a sworn factual account. A rapper may use a narrator, a composite character, a boast, a threat for dramatic effect, or a line intended to fit a rhyme pattern. None of those creative choices by themselves establish that an event happened, who carried it out, or what a performer intended outside the song.
Analysis: Steel’s position does not require the claim that every lyric is irrelevant in every imaginable case. Instead, his comments challenge the shortcut of treating an artist’s work as inherently literal or uniquely suspicious because it is rap. The issue he raises is whether the legal system recognizes artistic convention consistently across genres—and whether it applies appropriate skepticism before turning art into an accusation.
Why the comparison to other art matters
Steel’s examples are deliberate. Shakespeare’s plays contain killings, betrayals, conspiracies, and vengeance. Stephen King’s fiction regularly explores violent and frightening scenarios. Neither category is ordinarily approached as a routine record of the creator’s own conduct. Steel argues that rap deserves that same baseline understanding: art can portray a subject without proving that its creator committed it.
Related coverage includes Brian Steel Challenges Rap Lyrics’ Use in Criminal Trials.
His criticism is also directed at what he describes as discrimination against Black men in rap. In this view, the question is bigger than a particular lyric or trial tactic. It is about cultural assumptions: whose work is granted the benefit of fiction, performance, metaphor, and artistic distance, and whose work is presumed to reveal criminal intent.
That dispute matters beyond celebrity cases. Rap lyrics have become part of a wider public conversation about speech, race, authorship, and how courts interpret popular culture. The stakes rise sharply when the audience is a jury. A song excerpt may be emotionally charged even when its connection to a specific allegation is unclear. Removing the surrounding track, an artist’s body of work, or the conventions of the genre can make a line seem more direct than it is.
For defendants, that can create a difficult problem. A courtroom is not the same setting as a studio, performance, or streaming platform. Lyrics that audiences might recognize as theatrical can be presented amid charges, witness accounts, and other evidence. Steel’s criticism is that this context risks recasting art as biography before a jury has fully considered what the words actually mean and whether they meaningfully prove anything.
Tattoos are part of Steel’s concern, too
Steel also objected to the use of tattoos in court. He described a person’s right to wear facial tattoos, or tattoos anywhere else, as part of their freedom of expression. The argument follows the same logic as his position on lyrics: an expressive choice is not, by itself, reliable proof of guilt.
“People have a right to say what they want in their lyrics and people have the right to walk around with tattoos on their face if that's what they want,” Steel said.
A tattoo can communicate many things: identity, affiliation, memory, personal taste, visual style, or an artistic statement. Steel’s objection is to the assumption that a visible symbol or image should be made to carry criminal meaning simply because it may look unfamiliar, aggressive, or connected to a public image.
Explanation: Freedom of expression is the principle Steel invokes when discussing both music and body art. In practical terms, his argument is that speech and visual self-presentation should not be converted into evidence of criminal conduct without a clear, case-specific reason. The fact that a person has exercised a right to express themselves does not itself establish that they committed an offense.
A continuing fight over lyrics in court
The debate over rap lyrics in court has been prominent for years, and Steel indicated that the issue remains unresolved. The supplied information does not identify a specific new law or legal rule that would broadly prevent prosecutors from offering lyrics, and Steel’s comments reflect the reality that artists can still find their work placed under legal scrutiny.
That absence of a clear, universal barrier is central to the concern. Where lyrics are introduced, the legal argument may shift from the song’s artistic purpose to its alleged factual relevance. Steel’s position insists that courts should not skip the first question: is the material art, and is there a fair basis for treating it as something else?
For artists, the implications extend well beyond a single recording. Rap often rewards detailed storytelling and vivid language. It can draw on reality, imagination, local references, history, persona, and emotion at the same time. If legal systems or prosecutors flatten those layers into literal evidence, the effect can be a pressure on creative expression—even for artists who never expect their work to enter a courtroom.
Steel’s remarks therefore land as both a legal critique and a cultural one. He is arguing against a double standard in which rap’s style and subject matter are interpreted with less generosity than other artistic traditions. His call is not for people to ignore the words in music, but to understand that words in music are not automatically a factual statement.
What Steel is asking courts and audiences to consider
- Artistic context: Lyrics are written within a genre that commonly uses storytelling, character, exaggeration, and performance.
- Equal treatment: Steel argues that rap should not be treated as literal while novels, plays, and other musical forms receive the presumption of art.
- Risk of prejudice: Vivid lyrics or tattoos may influence perceptions even when they do not reliably establish the conduct alleged in a case.
- Free-expression protections: His comments present music and tattoos as protected modes of personal and artistic expression.
The broader conversation also connects to the way hip-hop artists are discussed outside the courtroom. Public interest frequently focuses on music, collaborations, and unreleased material—as in this look at Lil Wayne and Drake’s unreleased-song vault—but Steel’s argument is a reminder that an artist’s catalogue can take on a very different meaning when prosecutors present it as evidence.
Steel has built a profile through representing artists including Young Thug and Lil Durk and through his advocacy for defendants’ rights. In this latest discussion, he returned to a clear principle: rap lyrics and tattoos are expressions, and expression should not be mistaken for a confession. The continuing dispute is about how consistently that principle is honored once art meets the criminal justice system.
