Russian rap has only recently become a focus of serious academic study, unlike Russian rock poetry which has long attracted philologists. In scholarly circles, there is curiosity about Russian rap — especially the strand shaped by lyric-driven artists — and this interest is well warranted.
Overall, Russian rap emerges as a highly heterogeneous phenomenon, comprising a broad spectrum of artists who vary greatly in poetic achievement. A small subset crafts genuinely compelling, original texts, and it is through these works that one can see the literary traditions that influence contemporary rap writers.
If the question is about possible poetic roots for Russian rap, Vladimir Mayakovsky stands out as the clearest early analogue.
In the work of today’s rap creators there are numerous points of contact with Mayakovsky’s verse, ranging from the surprising to the revealing.
Rap poetry, at its core, aligns with Mayakovsky’s technique in Clouds in Pants — a move away from strict, classical syllabic patterns toward a tonic, stressed prosody. In Russia’s poetic tradition, Mayakovsky is not only a founder of this approach, but, without exaggeration, the most radiant instance of tonic versification.
Another key link is Mayakovsky’s stylistic upheaval in poetic language. His verse builds on layered language, balancing beauty and ugliness, the lofty and the coarse, the lyrical and the profane. That same experimental challenge to public taste — a provocation against conventional literary norms — can be seen among text-centric Russian rappers such as Husky, Slava CPSU, Makulatura, Night Loader, 25/17, and others.
Intriguingly, the poetry of a second 20th-century cultural figure, Joseph Brodsky, also resonates with Russian rap. Brodsky frequently breaks syllabic strictures, embracing enjambment and intricate rhymes that turn verse toward prose — techniques regularly found in some of the most interesting Russian rap texts from a poetic standpoint.
Many domestic rap artists who are particularly rich to study from a literary angle owe much to Russia’s rock culture of the 1980s and 1990s, notably Egor Letov, a frequent source of quotations in Russian rap. Some artists deliberately saturate their lyrics with literary allusions to widen reading horizons and better understand the prose and poetry they engage with.
Yet perhaps the most significant sign of the deep ties between rap and literature lies in the musical form itself: rap artists do not sing in the traditional sense; they read.
Rap should sound, and the impact grows when the text and the performer’s delivery harmonize, whether the delivery is polished or deliberately plain. Sometimes a deliberate simplicity becomes a powerful aesthetic choice, underscoring the close kinship between rap and sound poetry — an experimental poetic form that emphasizes the voice as the primary instrument.
Paradoxically, the essence of Russian rap can be found in its very label — the notion of a national genre, often described as Russian rap or Russian rock. The emphasis on national identity feels peculiar in music, but the pairing of Russian rock and Russian rap has developed its own distinctive semantic texture.
There is a common claim that Russian rock was secondary because early Russian rock artists drew heavily on Western models. In this sense, the term “Russian rap” can carry a sly irony; when Russian rappers imitate American colleagues in music or behavior, the cultural gap becomes more evident.
At the same time, Russian culture tends to privilege literary centrism. The famous line by Yevgeny Yevtushenko suggests that in Russia a poet is more than a poet. When rap is viewed through a literary lens, it seems that Russia and the United States host a similar number of text-driven artists who do not always fit the mainstream. The most successful and popular rappers, in fact, often function as musical performers rather than literary figures, and their lyrics may serve as a vivid accompaniment to the beat rather than as standalone literature.
From a literary perspective, Russian rap makes extensive use of tonic verse, and with careful handling it yields striking results. It is not unusual to find rapper lyrics turning syllabic on the page or screen, especially in the hands of groups like Husky. Yet the actual performance often preserves the natural speech rhythm, masking the underlying metrical shape while emphasizing the stressed syllables.
When viewed through a philological lens, one might conclude that nothing truly original lurks inside rap. That would be a mistake. Rather, it shows that these texts fit established literary paradigms and can reveal techniques that are more explicit, making the poetic form more visible. Excellent rap poetry demonstrates wordplay, nontrivial rhymes, and complex rhythm. It thrives on layered meanings, intertextual references, and strategic use of quotation and allusion — practices that place rap beside the best achievements in modern poetry.
Rappers, including those from Russia, attract large audiences and frequently appear on teen playlists. Yet using rap as school material is still premature. The school’s canon remains conservative, with older poets and works that have dominated for decades. While some contemporary writers deserve inclusion, the classroom often lags behind living literary phenomena.
When considering older contemporaries in a serious light, it would be valuable to study Brodsky and his circle, along with poets such as Evgeny Rein, Yuri Levitansky, Lev Losev, Viktor Sosnora, Timur Kibirov, Dmitry Prigov, Alexey Tsvetkov, and Elena Schwartz. Among younger writers, Dmitry Vodennikov, Boris Ryzhiy, Maria Stepanova, Grigory Dashevsky, and other equally compelling voices deserve consideration for curricula.
But curriculum reform is not the whole story. Rap poetry remains a specialized body of literature, and not every teacher is equipped to address it professionally. A notable incident in 2016 drew attention when a Khabarovsk student passed off a rap piece as a Mandelstam poem and received a high grade. The issue is not merely misgrading; it highlights the need for teachers to have deep cultural context to present rap as part of modern literary life. Perhaps this will change in time.
Can rap survive without music? When stripped of the musical component and the artist’s performance, rap lyrics can feel hollow, like a catch pulled from the sea. True rap poetry remains inseparable from the music and performer, unlike rock poetry which can exist as pure text. This could explain why Russian rappers rarely publish lyrics in book form, underscoring the unity of words and music in rap.
Experiment with reading a text aloud, hearing its scale and rhythm, and tracing how the verse builds a stanza. But viewing the same text as a transcript online often dissolves the intended aesthetic effect.
Rap poetry is, without a doubt, original. Its best examples easily stand as a distinct literary genre, and it stands to be studied more closely by philologists. This is already the case with Russian rock.
It should be noted that the ideas here reflect a particular viewpoint and may not align with every editorial stance.