Prosecutors Put Rap Lyrics on Trial. Maryland Is About to Shut It Down
The Legal Reckoning of Rap Lyrics
“I’m Gucci. It’s a rap. F**k [can they do] about a rap?” These words, spoken by Lawrence Montague on a jail phone call, now sit at the center of a broader legal reckoning unfolding in Maryland regarding the use of rap lyrics as evidence in criminal proceedings.
Maryland prosecutors introduced Montague’s rap verse, recorded using a jailhouse telephone and later posted to Instagram, as evidence of his guilt for the killing of George Forrester. In December 2020, Maryland’s highest court ruled in Montague vs. Maryland that rap lyrics could be admitted in court as evidence of a defendant’s guilt. The court’s treatment of the genre as inherently violent reflected a deeply flawed and biased assumption, and Montague was ultimately convicted and sentenced to fifty years.
On appeal, the state’s highest court affirmed the conviction, finding that the lyrics made it more probable that Montague shot and killed Forrester. In doing so, the court embraced the very kind of bias the legal system is supposed to guard against.
A National Movement for Artistic Freedom
That ruling set a dangerous precedent, particularly for hip-hop artists in America, and prompted Variety to publish our January 2021 opinion piece. What we didn’t realize at the time was that the article would help spark a national movement—now a united front of influential academics, defense and civil rights attorneys, and prominent music industry advocacy organizations including Songwriters of North America, the Black Music Action Coalition, and The Recording Academy.
Together, we have partnered under a coalition known as Free Our Art, led by high-profile music executive Kevin Liles and co-chaired by myself and Prophet. Over the past few years, the coalition has built a diverse and bipartisan group of allies, urging lawmakers to act. This week, in a full-circle moment, Maryland became only the third state to pass a bill reconsidering how creative works are used in criminal trials. The bill now heads to the desk of Maryland Governor Wes Moore, who is widely expected to sign it into law.
The PACE Act: Protecting Creative Expression
When signed, Maryland’s Protecting Artists’ Creative Expression (PACE) Act will join California and Louisiana, which enacted similar laws in 2022 and 2023 following advocacy by BMAC, SONA, and later Free Our Art. Critically, the legislation establishes clear standards for when creative works may be admitted as evidence in criminal proceedings.
This law addresses a growing concern among the music industry, legal scholars, and civil rights advocates, as rap lyrics have almost exclusively been used against Black and Brown artists in more than 820 cases since the 1980s. The PACE Act seeks to limit bias in the courtroom, reinforcing First Amendment protections that are frequently overlooked today. When signed into law, the legislation would limit the use of artistic expression as evidence to narrowly defined legal circumstances. Any creative expressions the government seeks to present must be vetted by a judge before a jury trial begins. These include instances where a defendant clearly intended the work to be taken literally, where it contains specific factual details tied to an alleged offense, where it is directly relevant to a disputed issue, and where its probative value outweighs any unfair prejudice.
Correcting Systemic Bias
Race has long shaped how rap lyrics are interpreted in the legal system. Courts have often misunderstood the history, purpose, and cultural significance of rap music in America, which emerged in the 1970s in the South Bronx as a response to poverty, unemployment, gang violence, and isolation from mainstream institutions. Courts are starting to correct the problem—overturning convictions where rap lyrics were wrongly used—but that is damage control, not justice. We need real protection on the front end.
Black artistry deserves the same legal protection as any other form of creative expression. Research shows that rap, a predominantly Black genre, is more likely to be seen by jurors as more threatening and grounded in reality. The result is that Black expression is treated as evidence of criminality, while artists in other genres, such as country music, exploring similar themes are afforded creative freedom. In court, slang, generic references, and race can unfairly prejudice juries far beyond their actual probative value.
With the PACE Act now moving through the final stages of approval, Maryland has an opportunity to correct a longstanding imbalance in the legal system. If signed into law, it will set a clear standard—one that other states should follow.
Dina LaPolt is an entertainment attorney, activist, and co-founder of the Songwriters of North America; and Willie “Prophet” Stiggers is the chairman and CEO of the Black Music Action Coalition. Special thanks to Loyola Law School student Kayla Ruff.
