B-Real, On The Record

If you were a teenager in the anti-weed prohibition era of the 1990s like I was, you’ll remember to score you had to prove that you were discreet and give off a certain low-key “you’re alright, kid” vibe. It meant something. Today, the outdated stigmas of cannabis are waning as the plant becomes not only accepted, but also celebrated for the goddess she is. Accordingly, only a very few key players have earned a place on the Mount Rushmore of Weed for changing Joe Public’s perception of the plant and few, if any, are more deserving than Cypress Hill, the iconic hip-hop group from South Gate, CA.

Since the band’s formation in 1988, they’ve loudly and proudly advocated for cannabis legalization. Their love of marijuana was featured heavily in their music and public personas long before it became mainstream. Their catchy beats and unwavering realness have made Cypress Hill one of my favorite groups since my cousins introduced me to them at 14. (It would be three years from first hearing them before I truly understood their brilliance after I ripped my first hit from the bong and listened to them on my Sony Discman in my purple teenage bedroom).

It’s somehow three decades later and my buddy Dan and I are standing on a sidewalk in West Los Angeles looking at a mint-condition turquoise 1964 Chevy Impala. I gently elbowed Dan since he’s a car guy and he nods approvingly. We were outside the Dr. Greenthumb dispensary on Wilshire, and I was moments away from meeting one of my all-time musical heroes at the opening of his newest dispensary some 24 hours before our scheduled interview at his DTLA-based studio. Here’s the thing: My plane had touched down at LAX only two hours earlier after an interminable overnight flight from New Zealand. The woozy jet lag and disorientation added a layer of travel-weary surrealism to what has proven to already be a mind-blowing day in the City of Angels.

The store itself was pretty epic: Music was pumping, people were shopping. An electric energy filled the thoughtfully designed contemporary space. I was instantly drawn to a massive mural of Cypress Hill’s legendary members: DJ Muggs, BoBo, Sen Dog and B-Real—unquestionably four of the most influential and consequential musicians of our time. Much like the band itself, the artwork was powerful, impressive and familiar.

Since their eponymous debut album went double platinum in 1991–featuring hit singles “How I Could Just Kill A Man” and “The Phuncky Feel One”—it established Cypress Hill as a new force in hip-hop. The band always seamlessly blended music with cannabis advocacy and activism. Their sophomore album, Black Sunday (1993), catapulted Cypress Hill to massive mainstream success as it debuted at No.1 on the Billboard 200 Album Chart on its way to triple platinum sales and spawning their biggest hit, “Insane in the Brain.” This album cemented Cypress Hill as legit hip-hop legends in the making. Subsequent albums including III: Temples of Boom (1995) and Cypress Hill IV (1998) continued their successful run by each achieving platinum status. The band’s most recent album, Back In Black (2022), spotlights their ongoing relevance in today’s musical landscape.

Cypress Hill has collaborated with rock bands such as Sonic Youth and Pearl Jam, bridging the gap between hip-hop and rock audiences. They were nominated for Grammy Awards for three consecutive years (Best Rap Performance, Duo Or Group, 1994-96). Their distinctive style blended hip-hop with rock and Latin musical influences, keeping them fresh sounding for decades. Cypress Hill cuts have been featured in movie soundtracks and video games, including the monster-selling Grand Theft Auto series. They’re the first Hispanic-American hip-hop group to achieve platinum and multi-platinum album sales, making them pioneers on the way for greater diversity in the genre.

Cypress Hill’s influence on popular culture extends well beyond weed and music. In 2019, the band received a star on the Hollywood Walk Of Fame in recognition of the band’s massive contributions to American entertainment. They had a guest spot on The Simpsons in 1996, where they performed at the Hullabalooza festival. And, of course, there was the time they became the first act to be banned by Saturday Night Live for smoking a joint live on air. But more on that later.

As Dan and I took in the scene at the dispensary, powerhouse publicist Kim Baker led us to the makeshift Green Room when, in a moment that’ll stay with me, a moment that teenage me would never in a million years believed would be possible, I saw him. B-Real. In the flesh. Standing in front of me.

Born Louis Mario Freese on June 2, 1970, in a multicultural Los Angeles household to a Cuban mother and Mexican father, B-Real possesses one of the most instantly recognizable voices in music, coupled with his distinctive style and lyrical prowess. Believe me when I say his place in the cultural zeitgeist cannot be understated. Outside his Cypress Hill success, B-Real has pursued various solo projects and released his debut solo album Smoke N Mirrors in 2009. In 2016, he formed the supergroup Prophets Of Rage with Chuck D, Tom Morello, Brad Wilk, Tim Commerford and DJ Lord. He’s collaborated with rap artists from coast-to-coast, including Busta Rhymes, Eminem and Snoop Dogg.

As B-Real started walking towards us, I told myself “Be cool.” And, for the most part, it worked. Admittedly, it wasn’t easy to pull off when you’re face-to-face with the man who co-created the soundtrack of your youth. As we chatted, I noticed he was wearing his iconic diamond-encrusted Dr. Greenthumb pendant necklace. “Yeah, I’ve had this for a long time,” he said, smiling slyly. “Pinch me,” I thought to myself with the best poker face I could muster as we shook hands. I needn’t have worried, as B-Real turned out to be one of the most sincere, likable and downright coolest people I’ve ever met.

“Melissa just landed from New Zealand,” Baker tells the legend, and I nod in agreement. “My buddy Dan picked me up from the airport, passed me a joint and drove us straight here,” I offer. “That’s wild,” he says, laughing. I had to agree. We chat for a few more minutes before he’s called away. Dan and I say our goodbyes and head back to the party downstairs. I chat with a few acquaintances, including Bill Levers from Beard Bros Pharms and the legendary cannabis grower Kenji. I also—quite incredibly—met BoBo, Cypress Hill’s percussionist and former percussionist of the Beastie Boys.

Now, that was a fun welcome to LA.

Not a day later, I pull up in an Uber outside a nondescript building in Downtown Los Angeles. This is the hub of B-Real’s creative universe, BREALTV. From here, he records tunes, hosts his Dr. Greenthumb podcast and fronts his The Smokebox YouTube show, where celebrity guests light one up and chop it up. As our photographer walks around scouting for possible locations, I notice the walls are adorned with a series of gold and platinum albums as well as framed photos highlighting the band’s many years in the biz. Drums, guitars and other musical instruments were also at the ready, quietly standing by.

When B-Real arrived, he greeted me warmly as if we were old friends. Wait? Are we friends already? As the photo shoot commenced, B and I chat about Cypress Hill’s recent appearance on NPR’s Tiny Desk Concert and what it was like being on The Simpsons back in the day. I then ask him a few fact-or-fiction questions to see where it leads us.

You once held the record for smoking the world’s largest blunt on 4/20, which weighed five pounds. “Yeah, that’s a fact.”

You used to FedEx cannabis to locations where you knew there wouldn’t be any. “Yes, that’s true.” [Laughs]

There’s a ‘Smokers Olympics’ text group and you’re part of it? “Yes, there was once upon a time.”

You said that Wiz Khalifa was the only one who could hang and keep up with you on all the different ways to consume weed. “Yeah, he’s the only one. I’d stand by that all day. If we were gonna smoke blunts all day—which I do not do—then it would be Snoop and Style P and Smoke DZA. But with all its other aspects, it’s Wiz.”

We wrap up the first part of the shoot and relocate to a different part of the building, to the studio where B hosts the popular Dr. Greenthumb podcast. It was time to put him in the hot seat as I turned to more personal queries. Tell me about the first time you smoked weed.

He pauses for a beat longer than expected and smiles. “The first time I smoked weed was out of a bong,” he says. “It might have been a Graffix bong; I think they were probably the only ones making them at the time.”

I tell him that Hollywood—and stoner—legend Tommy Chong once described Cypress Hill as ‘trailblazers’ for their staggering list of pioneering feats. “No way! Tommy called us that?” B smiles somewhat incredulously. I ask B if he has a stand-out moment from his career filled with so many achievements.

“That’s a tough one,” he says. “The first memorable moment was when we learned that “Insane in the Brain” was gaining traction after being featured in the movie Juice. We had no clue; we’d been doing a lot of promotional work but weren’t seeing much movement. Then, our song was included in the film and mix shows started playing it. We went to the premiere. The audience’s reaction when our song played—people got up and started dancing and we were like, ‘Wow.’ At that moment, we realized we had a big hit on our hands. It wasn’t necessarily a hit single towards radio play, because that’s a different type of thing. But this thing resonated in a different way without the support of radio with only MC show play.”

What else stands out? “The second memorable moment was being asked to perform on The Simpsons or playing at Woodstock. I can’t remember which came first. Eventually, we also appeared on SNL, which was huge for us because we had all grown up watching that show. All the bands we admired performed there, so getting that opportunity felt monumental when we finally got it.”

Ah yes, the infamous moment when DJ Muggs lit a joint on air on live network television. “Yeah, they kept telling them not to smoke,” he says, laughing. “I think they knew we were going to, but they kept telling Muggs not to. We were all going to smoke once we had destroyed our set; we all had joints on us. But he did it at the beginning to let them know, “Hey, fuck you. You’re not going to tell me anything.” That’s all people were talking about for a while.” [Laughs]

I congratulate him for the latest successful dispensary opening; the Wilshire location was his fifth. In the era of celebrity cannabis brands, what makes Dr. Greenthumb the best? “I wouldn’t say it’s necessarily better, but what sets us apart is our long-standing credibility in the cannabis world,” B says. “We’ve been deeply involved in this culture long before it became an industry. Cypress Hill has been known for endorsing quality cannabis strains and for our cultivation expertise for years. Our reputation as advocates and activists for cannabis made the transition to creating a brand relatively seamless. When people heard about Dr. Greenthumb, they were excited because they trust us—we’ve been talking about cannabis since day one. People know we’ve fought for cannabis legalization; so when we say we’ll have excellent products in our stores, they believe us. I wouldn’t want to disregard other amazing cultivators and brands producing great products. This level of competition pushes everyone to improve and innovate, resulting in better products.”

During the East Coast-West Coast hip-hop rivalry in the 1990s, Cypress Hill was the only West Coast hip-hop group embraced by the East Coast. Why do you think that was?

“Well, the truth is, while we’re a West Coast group, we were actually embraced on the East Coast first because of our unique sound and style,” B says. “Our unorthodox approach to music was unlike anything happening on the West Coast at the time. There was an East Coast sensibility to our sound, mixed with some West Coast elements, particularly in the slang that Sen Dog and I used in our rhymes. But initially, people didn’t really know where we were from. That was the great thing about it—the East Coast embraced us before the West Coast did. And because the East Coast was so revered as the birthplace of hip-hop, getting their stamp of approval meant everything. It was amazing. Once we got that stamp, it slowly but surely resonated from the East Coast to the West Coast. That’s when the West started claiming us, saying, ‘Oh, they’re from the West. They’re our boys.’ We didn’t have that initially, so it was great being embraced like that.”

The legend wasn’t done.

“When the East Coast-West Coast rivalry happened, we kept going back and forth to the East Coast because it didn’t affect us,” he says. “We weren’t part of that conflict; we had no beef with anybody on the East Coast and nobody had beef with us. The mainstream media perpetuated the idea that it was a coast-wide war in hip-hop, but it was really between a couple of guys and their camps. Unfortunately, it got out of hand, and we lost Tupac and Biggy—they were both great talents. There was still love and respect for many West Coast and East Coast groups. They could come to shows on either coast and be welcomed. Nobody got run out of buildings. Only those directly engaged in the rivalry had to deal with the repercussions of that beef.”

It just must have been such an insane time, I say. “It definitely was,” B agrees. It was yin and yang, positive and negative.”

Who’s your favorite current performer? “Kendrick Lamar,” he says quickly. “He puts a lot of thought into it. And Tyler The Creator. Definitely a fan of those two guys.”

As “those two guys” and all artists know, music has always been an outlet for them to voice their issues from their large platforms. Cypress Hill rapped about societal issues. B’s other band, Prophets Of Rage, rapped about political issues of the day. Other bands, such as System Of A Down, did the same. These days, however, no one seems to be stepping into the ‘rage arena’ when there’s never been more to scream and fight about. “What’s his take?” I wondered.

“Everybody’s afraid to say something now,” B says. “If you say something, people are quick to jump on your back about it…We’re living in the troll generation. If an artist puts out a song and tries to say anything, [the public] immediately decides that it feels like they’re against them, sending waves of trolls and bots to negatively impact their pages. And that eventually leaks over into different things. And no one wants to deal with that. So, they’re afraid to say something in general.”

I wanted to know his take on the linear timeline in which hip-hop culture, music and cannabis have seemingly evolved alongside each other.

“Cannabis has been with music since day one. You can track it as far back as the jazz musicians in the 1940s, maybe late ‘30s, early ‘40s and beyond. Cab Calloway was talking about cannabis in their songs. “Reefer” was a slang term when talking about smoking weed,” B-Real says. “For hip-hop and cannabis, a lot of us grew up stoners who listened to hip-hop music…It coincided. It felt like a natural thing. I mean, music is the bridge. If you want to make people dance, you can make a dance song; if you want to make people think, you make something thought-provoking. If you want to make people angry, you make a fucking song that would piss people off. If you want to educate people, talk about things they don’t know.”

The icon is just getting started.

“There was so much misinformation about cannabis from the ‘30s, Reefer Madness propaganda and all that crap,” he says. “Hip-hop served as a communication tool to educate people about cannabis. First to drop their guard: ‘Cannabis is OK, we celebrate it, we smoke it, hey, it’s not as bad as you think.’ And then, come in with the information that could possibly sway someone’s way of thinking about it. Or make them want to do their due diligence and find out what cannabis can do for people, economically and medicinally.

Now, fast forwarding a few years, we’re talking about cannabis in Cypress, and we hit the mainstream. Then others want to take the template we were successful with and try to ride that. More people are talking about cannabis, more artists are talking about cannabis and embracing it—and some of these groups are successful as well. We became the megaphone for cannabis consumption, celebration and education. Unlike genres before us, except for maybe reggae, but in terms of mainstream acceptance, hip-hop opened a door for many of us to go through. We’re all rhyming about legalizing it and learning about cannabis. I think hip-hop can be credited for opening people’s minds and getting involved in learning about cannabis and, eventually, legalization in so many states. And just the overall mentality about what cannabis is—no other genre hit it like hip-hop, especially in the modern age music.”

And nobody hit it like Cypress Hill. “They tried,” B says. [Laughs]

Joe Rogan once hilariously said that he was smoked into a coma when he was a guest on The Smokebox. I’m curious if anyone notable came into the studio as a big talker, saying they were going to out-smoke B? And is there anyone who you thought could handle it but didn’t?

“Nobody has really come in with the attitude of ‘I’m going to out smoke you,’ B says. “I think they know that’s not likely to happen. [Laughs] David Arquette stands out in my memory. He was very anxious about the experience—he even put on his seatbelt, and we weren’t even moving! It was surprising because, while I knew David was a big Cypress Hill fan and we’re fans of his work too, I never knew him to be a heavy smoker. I was actually surprised he agreed to do The Smokebox. It showed a lot of bravery on his part. As for Joe Rogan, yeah, he was definitely affected.” [Laughs]

For the fans paying close attention, Cypress Hill always had a slightly different approach when it came to the plant, some would say even an educational angle.

“You’re right,” B says. “We were avid readers of High Times; not only did we appreciate the cannabis that we saw within the magazine, but we were also reading some of the articles, the freedom fighter articles, stuff like that, to learn more about the culture and understand it as young men and young stoners. And when we put out our first album, High Times and Norml and the organizations that represented cannabis at the time started coming at us because here we were, really celebrating cannabis in a different way.

To our record labels’ credit, they allowed this celebration and would push us forward into it. That allowed us to make all these great connections in cannabis culture at that time, which introduced us to Ed Rosenthal, Chef Ra (rest in peace) and Steve Blum from High Times. Our mentor, Jack Herrer, taught us pretty much everything we knew—and what we didn’t know—by giving us his book The Emperor Wears No Clothes and hanging out with him. We put out the ten facts that were in his book about cannabis on our second album. And people read it, and they were like, ‘Oh, this is interesting.’ Our stoner fans just love that shit. The other fans didn’t necessarily consume cannabis; they just loved our music. Because that’s not all our music was about. We did represent it, but our music was more than that. People who weren’t necessarily cannabis users were interested in some of that information and would learn about it. It opened up the door right there. Music and cannabis, they’re hand in hand.”

Jack Herer taught you what it meant to be an advocate. You took the knowledge he gave you and spread it. With that in mind, what’s your message to the next generation of cannabis lovers who grew up not really knowing about prohibition or persecution for the plant?

“I’ll say be thankful for the work that the people before you put in so that you can enjoy cannabis right now, as it is,” B says. “You can go to dispensaries and stuff like that. If you want to get spicy, even go into rogue shops, which I don’t condone or advise because you don’t know if the material is clean. Now, many legal states and some countries are embracing it. But there’s still a lot of work to do. Don’t sit on your hands because there’s still a lot of work to do. And anybody who consumes it or wants to get involved in the culture should know what work is to be done. Gather like-minded people and move towards the work because we need it federally legal in the US. There’s still a lot of work to do, but people are more open-minded than they used to be.”

B appears on most experts’ “Mount Rushmore of Cannabis” lists, including my own. I wondered who would be on his.

“Cab Calloway, Bob Marley, Peter Tosh and Louis Armstrong,” he says, not missing a beat. Legends, one and all.

As we near the end of our eye-opening conversation, I ask one of my legit musical heroes to finish this sentence: B-Real is… After a thoughtful pause, B-Real says, “Forever.” And, somehow, that answer was as unexpected as it was profound.

“I think my legacy is the music that we leave behind,” he says. “But more than anything, anyone with nothing can come from this nothing if you put the work behind it. You get the right people with you, and you take that nothing and create something and become something. It’s within you. Reach down deep and get to it. Most people are so washed in terms of thinking, ‘If I take a chance, I’m going to fail.’ And when they get caught up in that, they never take a chance. So take a chance on yourself. That’s what my legacy is. I’m a person who took a chance on myself. I didn’t let the obstacles, naysayers or doubters change my path with my brothers, who had the same vision. If anything, the legacy is this kid came from nothing and made something. You could do it, too.”

Just the sort of talk you expect from your heroes. For real.

Originally published in Issue 50 of Cannabis Now.