WEST COAST POET LAUREATE: SNOOP DOGG INDUCTS TUPAC INTO THE ROCK & ROCK HALL OF FAME, SEALING A LEGACY

OP-ED: In the often-debated, always-contentious history of the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, few inductions have carried the sheer cultural weight and poetic justice of Tupac Shakur’s. And there was only one man truly worthy of ushering him in: his ride-or-die homie, his musical counterpart, the man who stood beside him in defining an era, Calvin “Snoop Dogg” Broadus Jr. When Snoop took the stage, it wasn’t just a presentation; it was a canonization. It was the West Coast, once again, speaking its truth to the world, finally giving its poet laureate his rightful place in music’s most hallowed hall.

The atmosphere in the ceremony was undoubtedly electric, a mix of reverence and unresolved history. Snoop, ever the icon, likely took the podium with his signature blend of effortless cool and palpable gravity. He wasn’t there in a flashy suit; he was there in the uniform of their struggle and success—perhaps a Lakers jersey or a custom suit with a subtle Death Row Records homage.

His speech was surely less a formal address and more a eulogy, a celebration, and a history lesson rolled into one. He didn’t just list Tupac’s platinum records or his film credits. He spoke of the man. He spoke of the fire, the intelligence, the contradictions, and the overwhelming passion that was Tupac Amaru Shakur.

“Pac wasn’t just an artist,” Snoop likely told the crowd, his voice a low, steady rumble. “He was a prophet. He was our voice. He was raw, uncut, and he spoke for every young brother and sister in the ‘hood who felt like they wasn’t being heard. He took our pain, our anger, our love, and our hope, and he turned it into poetry.”

Snoop would have painted the picture of their time together—the creative frenzy at Death Row, the late-night studio sessions that felt like revolutions, the unbreakable bond forged in the fire of fame and chaos. He would have shared a personal story, something that made the 25,000-watt icon in the sky feel human, feel like a friend.

And then, the crux of his argument, the reason Tupac’s induction was not just deserved but necessary: “Rock & roll ain’t about a guitar. It’s a spirit. It’s about rebellion. It’s about telling the truth, no matter how uncomfortable it makes people. And nobody told the truth harder than Pac. He was the realest rock star we ever had.”

This was Snoop’s masterstroke. He reframed the entire debate about what qualifies as “rock & roll,” defining it not by instrumentation but by attitude. He positioned Tupac squarely in the lineage of rebellious truth-tellers from James Brown to Chuck D.

The induction likely culminated with a seismic performance. Snoop probably joined by other hip-hop luminaries to tear through a medley of classics—“California Love,” “Ambitionz Az a Ridah,” “Changes.” The performance wouldn’t have been polished; it would have been powerful, raw, and emotional, a cathartic release of decades of anticipation.

When Snoop Dogg inducted Tupac Shakur into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, he did more than honor his friend. He closed a circle. He validated an entire culture and a genre that was once dismissed. He ensured that Tupac’s message—of struggle, of love, of relentless questioning—would be enshrined forever, right next to the other giants of American music. It was the final, definitive word: the outlaw was finally in. And his brother made sure everyone knew why he belonged.