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When OGs Meet the New Wave: Watching SA Hip Hop’s Generations Collide

Khotso Isaacs

26 May 2025

As a South African hip hop fan, there’s a certain pride that comes with watching the genre evolve on home soil. We’ve seen the rise of local legends who laid the foundation for what hip hop means in this country, from the days of PRO, HHP, and Skwatta Kamp to the commercial heights of AKA, Khuli Chana, and Cassper Nyovest. These were the artists who rapped in vernac with conviction, who told kasi stories with poetry, and who built this culture before the world paid attention.

Now, there’s a new wave, and it sounds nothing like what we grew up on.


Autotune is the new language. Amapiano blends into trap. Influencers are rappers, and TikTok dances drive album sales. As fans who were there from day one, watching the older generation try to introduce themselves to this new school can be… confusing, sometimes inspiring, and sometimes uncomfortable.


Let’s talk about what it feels like to witness this generational shift from a South African fan’s perspective, and why it’s not as simple as old vs new.




From “Spaza Rap” to Trap Soul: The Sound Has Changed



If you grew up listening to the poetic wordplay of Tumi, the street punchlines of ProKid, or the radio freestyles of HHP, you know the standard was lyricism. There was a rhythm to it, a rawness, and a sense of purpose in every verse. We memorised verses like scripture.


Now, things have changed. New artists like Blxckie, The Big Hash, Brotherkupa and MfanaTouchline bring a whole new energy. Their sound leans more into mood and vibe, and less into the “three verses and a hook” formula. They’re genre-fluid, hopping between hip hop, trap, and even Amapiano.


As fans, we often find ourselves wondering: Where are the bars? But the kids aren’t checking for bars the same way. They’re chasing vibe, feeling, and presence, and that’s a different kind of artistry.


So when an OG tries to jump on a trap beat or do a melodic hook with autotune… it sometimes feels forced. We want it to work, but it doesn’t always land right. And as fans, we feel that tension.





The Culture Feels More Digital, Less Personal



Remember when you discovered new music on YFM or Hype magazine? When CD booklets mattered? When seeing an artist live at Back to the City or Oppikoppi was a moment?


Now, music drops on streaming platforms with no warning. New rappers get more shine from Instagram Reels than from radio playlists. One viral TikTok can launch a career faster than a freestyle ever did.


For older artists, and the fans who came up with them, entering this world is like walking into a club where everyone is dancing to music only they can hear. The connection feels… digital, not personal.


And when our legends try to step into this space, we can feel the disconnect. We want them to win, but the game has changed, and not everyone is built for it.





Respect is No Longer a Given. It Has to Be Proven Again



Ask any die-hard fan, and they’ll tell you ProKid deserves a statue. HHP should be in textbooks. Khuli Chana’s Lost in Time was a classic. But go into a room with 19-year-olds bumping Jaykatana or K1llbrady, and those names barely register.


Respect today is built on now, current relevance, follower counts, streaming numbers. You could have dominated the scene ten years ago, but if you’re not visible on socials, you’re just another “uncle” trying to drop a verse.


It’s painful to witness, especially when you know what those artists gave to the culture. But as fans, we have to accept that today’s artists are building a different legacy, one that isn’t always rooted in history.





When the Blend Works, It’s Magic



Despite the awkwardness and generational friction, there are moments when the old and new come together, and it’s magic. Think of how Cassper Nyovest navigated the Amapiano wave without losing his hip hop credibility. Or how K.O has reinvented himself time and time again, collaborating with younger artists and still topping charts. Even Stogie T, formerly Tumi, remains relevant by balancing bar-heavy verses with sharp commentary on the state of the culture.


As fans, this is what we hope for. We want to see the bridge built, not broken. We want the OGs to mentor without preaching, and the new wave to innovate without disrespect.


Hip hop has never been one-dimensional. It’s always been a reflection of its time. And right now, SA hip hop is figuring out what it means to evolve without erasing its past.





We’re Changing Too. And That’s Okay



Sometimes we blame the music. We say things like “hip hop’s not the same” or “today’s artists don’t care about the craft.” But maybe the truth is: we’ve changed too.


We’re older now. We have jobs, kids, responsibilities. We can’t stay up until 2AM dissecting lyrics or debating albums on Twitter. We’re not in the clubs hearing these new songs hit. We’re consuming the culture differently, and that affects how we experience it.


The music might not be worse. It’s just not for us in the same way anymore. And that’s okay. There’s still room to appreciate what’s coming, even if we don’t always feel it the same way.





There’s Room for All of Us in the Cipher



South African hip hop is in a transition phase. The old guard is trying to remain relevant. The new wave is carving its own path. And as fans, we’re watching it all unfold in real time.


Sometimes it’s awkward. Sometimes it’s beautiful. Sometimes you cringe. Sometimes you nod your head and say, “Okay, this slaps.”


But that’s the culture. That’s hip hop.


There’s room for your dusty classics and the latest Spotify drop. There’s room for kwaito-influenced bars and auto-tuned melodies. And if we keep an open mind, and a sharp ear, we might just find that hip hop still has a lot more to teach us, no matter what generation we’re from.

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