My grandmother only ever loved one rap song. No, it wasn’t that she was a hip-hop hater on a crusade against the genre’s vulgarity or anything like that—she was a fiery woman, barely over five feet tall, who could talk shit with the best of them. She just didn’t care much for modern pop culture. Whenever I popped up at her crib in the New Brighton neighborhood of Staten Island, she would be sitting at her dining room table cutting up coupons and nibbling on something sweet while the radio was