There are nine members of the Wu−Tang Clan, in case you were wondering.
As the RZA announces during the intro to "Clan in Da Front" (1993), they are: "The RZA, the GZA, Ol' Dirty Bastard, Inspecta Deck, U−God, Ghostface Killah, the Method Mad, Raekwon the Chef, the Masta Killah."
But I'd like to propose a 10th member: Ovid.
Yes, that Ovid: the great Roman poet who has basically influenced everyone ever.
His writings, collections of poems and epics such as "Amores," "Heroidies" and "Metamorphoses," are cornerstones of Western literature. At some point in your education, you have, in some form, either encountered these works or works that are directly influenced by them.
While I can't prove it for sure, I wouldn't be surprised if Ghostface Killah has read his fair share of Ovid.
Ghostface Killah, known for his densely lyrical, often darkly comedic, inner−city narratives, can be seen as a spiritual successor to Ovid (and, thus, to Shakespeare, Chaucer and Spenser, among others). His songs, when written out, read like the poems by these authors, albeit updated with new language and new stories. Just as Edmund Spenser made up his own language to describe the various knights' exploits in Faerie Land, Ghostface often employs his own unique slang to weave his tales of life in the ghetto.
The song "Shakey Dog," off Ghostface's 2006 album "Fishscale," tells the story of a robbery gone bad. It starts with the narrator (Tony aka "Ghost") and his accomplice (Frank aka "Shakey Dog") in a car getting ready to enter an apartment building to rob a rival drug dealer.
As in the work of Ovid and Spenser, the narrative of the song doesn't follow a linear path: As Tony and Frank enter the building, Tony points out a local character to his partner, and the narrative goes off on a sudden, meandering aside. Just as Spenser's description of the nefarious Ate wanders off track in the first canto of the fourth book of "The Faerie Queen," Ghostface loses focus to discuss an O.G. in the hallway:
"Look out for Jackson 5−0 cause they on foot/Straight ahead is the doorway, see that lady, that lady with the shopping cart/She keep a shottie cocked in the hallway/Damn she look pretty old Ghost, she work for Kevin, she 'bout 77/She paid her dues when she smoked his brother−in−law at his bosses' wedding/Flew to Venezuela quickly when the big fed stepped in/3 o'clock, watch the kids, third floor, last door..."
The language here is just as dense and confusing as anything Spenser ever wrote; footnotes would be appreciated. What seems to be happening, however, is fairly simple: Tony warns Frank to watch out for the police — Jackson 5−0 — and to be aware that a woman in the hallway has a shotgun. From this warning, Tony goes on to relate the woman's life story — when she was younger she worked for some gangster, earned her stripes by killing a rival's brother at a wedding and then escaped arrest — and then, just as abruptly, switches back to the narrative, focusing our attention at the door of the apartment where the robbery is going to occur.
While epic poems are rarely produced now, and traditional poets are no longer heroes worshipped in the streets, it isn't fair to say that the bard is dead — he's just harder to recognize now, with those diamond teeth and all.
Rappers are our poets, and they're treated the same way celebrated poets of yore once were. Poetry is still important; it's still a vital, unique art form, but it's sometimes hard to connect with. Where people groan at Milton, Frost, Spenser or Rumi, they might be more receptive to Ghostface, Biggie or Jay−Z.
The always−irascible Eminem explicitly stated it on Jay−Z's "Renegade" (2001): "I'm a poet to some/A regular modern−day Shakespeare."
Or, "My name is ‘What' is in a name?"
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