Since the earliest days of hip-hop, there’s been a lasting, deep appreciation for all things martial arts. It only makes sense. Like hip-hop, kung-fu flicks were first introduced to American audiences in the overlooked recesses of New York City in the mid-’70s. The parallels go beyond the point of origin — it’s embedded in the broader audience's cultural understanding of both. Hip-hop heavyweights, working tirelessly on their technique (be it DJing, breakdancing, or rhyming) and proving their mastery of the craft in the heat of battle, closely mirror that of the journeyman protagonist who typically starred in a Shaw Brothers flick.
From Wu-Tang to Kung Fu Kenny, Bruce Leroy, to Lupe Fiasco, the synergy between the two runs deep in a way that still manifests today. But few moments in hip-hop history encapsulate this accordance better than the 2000-action flick Romeo Must Die. The Jet Li vehicle not only marked the acting debut of the late Queen of R&B and legitimized one of hip-hop’s biggest stars as a bankable Hollywood leading man, it immortalized hip-hop’s love of Asian-origin action flicks forever.
