Hip-hop isn't just about the music anymore; it’s a lineage. When you look at the Wu-Tang Clan and Run The Jewels, you aren't just looking at two different eras of rap. You’re looking at a specific kind of architectural continuity. It’s that grit. That raw, uncompromising "we do what we want" energy that feels increasingly rare in a world of TikTok-optimized choruses.
Honestly, it’s wild.
Wu-Tang hit the scene in '93 with Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers) and basically broke the industry's neck. They didn't ask for permission. They didn't try to fit into the shiny suit era that was bubbling up. They were a collective of nine distinct personalities that somehow functioned as a single, terrifying unit. Then, fast forward to 2013. El-P and Killer Mike—two guys who had already spent a decade-plus in the trenches—teamed up. On paper, it was a weird pairing. A Brooklyn indie-rap pioneer and a Southern powerhouse from the Dungeon Family camp. But the result was the same seismic shift we felt in the 90s.
The Shared Philosophy of Wu-Tang Clan and Run The Jewels
What connects these two isn't just the fact that they make loud music. It's the independence.
The Wu-Tang Clan's most legendary move wasn't a song. It was a contract. RZA negotiated a deal with Loud Records that allowed every single member to sign solo deals with other labels. Think about how insane that is. GZA went to Geffen, Method Man went to Def Jam, and Ol' Dirty Bastard went to Elektra. They colonized the entire industry from the inside out. They were a brand before "branding" was a buzzword people used in LinkedIn posts.
Run The Jewels (RTJ) followed a similar, albeit more modern, blueprint. They didn't wait for a major label to "discover" them. El-P and Killer Mike were already "old" by industry standards when they started RTJ. They gave their first three albums away for free. Literally. You could go to their website and just download the files. They bet on the fact that if the music was good enough, the fans would show up for the vinyl, the merch, and the tours. And boy, did they.
It's about ownership.
RZA once said that the Wu-Tang was a "dictatorship to a democracy." He had the five-year plan. He controlled the sound. RTJ is more of a brotherhood of equals, but that same laser-focus on protecting the art is there. When you listen to a track like "Close Your Eyes (And Count to Fuck)" or "C.R.E.A.M.," you’re hearing artists who refuse to shave off their rough edges for the sake of a radio play.
Sonics of the Underground
Let's talk about the noise.
RZA’s production in the early 90s was claustrophobic. It was dusty. He was sampling old soul records but pitching them down, making them sound haunted. It felt like New York in the winter—grey, cold, and a little bit dangerous.
El-P does something similar but with a futuristic twist. His beats sound like a computer having a panic attack. It’s "dystopian funk." If Wu-Tang is a kung-fu movie set in the projects, Run The Jewels is a cyberpunk rebellion in a police state. Both groups use sound as a weapon. They don't make background music. You can't just have RTJ4 playing while you do your taxes; the bass is too aggressive for that. It demands your attention.
The Power of the Duo vs. The Collective
People often ask if RTJ is the modern-day Wu-Tang.
Kinda. But not really.
The Wu was a sprawling empire. You had the core nine, then you had the "Wu-Tang Killa Bees"—an endless swarm of affiliates like Killah Priest and Streetlife. It was a universe. You could get lost in the lore for years. RTJ is tighter. It’s just Mike and El. But their chemistry? It’s reminiscent of the best Wu pairings. Think Raekwon and Ghostface Killah on Only Built 4 Cuban Linx. That "Purple Tape" energy where two rappers are so in sync they start finishing each other's sentences.
Killer Mike provides the booming, preacher-like authority. El-P provides the cynical, witty, Brooklyn grit. It’s a perfect foil. When they trade bars, it’s a high-speed chase.
- Wu-Tang Strength: Diversity of styles. You have the technical wizardry of Inspectah Deck, the gravelly charisma of Method Man, and the unpredictable chaos of ODB.
- RTJ Strength: Consistency and focus. Because it's just two people, they can pivot faster. They can address the political climate in real-time, which they did famously during the 2020 protests.
Why the "Legacy" Tag is Tricky
There's a misconception that these groups are just for "old heads."
That's a lie.
If you go to an RTJ show, you'll see teenagers moshing next to 40-year-olds in Wu-Wear hoodies. The Wu-Tang Clan and Run The Jewels have managed to stay relevant because they never chased trends. They didn't start making "ringtone rap" in 2006, and they aren't making "mumble rap" or "drill" now. They stayed in their lane, and eventually, the world came back to them.
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The Wu-Tang's influence is everywhere. It’s in the way Travis Scott builds a brand universe. It’s in the way Kendrick Lamar structures his narratives. RTJ’s influence is seen in the independent boom. They proved that you can be "underground" and still headline Coachella.
The Financials of the Fringe
Let's get into the weeds for a second.
Wu-Tang’s Once Upon a Time in Shaolin—the single-copy album sold for millions to Martin Shkreli (and later seized by the government and sold to a DAO)—was a massive statement on the value of art in the digital age. It was a middle finger to streaming services that pay fractions of a penny.
RTJ does this through "super-serving" their niche. They have their own beer. They have their own cannabis line. They have a massive presence in video games like Gears of War and Cyberpunk 2077. They realized early on that in the 2020s, being a rapper is only about 40% of the job. The rest is community building.
Practical Steps for Understanding the Connection
If you're trying to really "get" why these two entities are the pillars of hardcore hip-hop, you have to listen to them in a specific way. Don't just shuffle a "Best Of" playlist. That's for amateurs.
1. Start with the Foundation
Listen to Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers) from start to finish. Notice the samples. Notice the lack of polish. It sounds like it was recorded in a basement because, well, it mostly was.
2. Pivot to the Evolution
Put on Run The Jewels 2. Specifically the track "Close Your Eyes (And Count to Fuck)" featuring Zack de la Rocha. Listen to the rhythm of the breathing in the beat. That’s the kind of sonic experimentation RZA was doing 30 years ago, just updated for a high-def world.
3. Watch the Visuals
Go back and watch the "Triumph" music video. The scale was massive. Then watch the "Nobody Speak" video by DJ Shadow featuring RTJ. Both use imagery to subvert power structures. Wu-Tang used five-percenter philosophy and chess imagery; RTJ uses political satire and brutalist aesthetics.
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4. Study the Business
Read The Wu-Tang Manual by RZA. It’s basically a textbook on how to build a movement from nothing. Then, look up El-P’s interviews about the founding of his Definitive Jux label. The DNA is identical: self-reliance over everything.
The Reality of the Collaboration
Despite the similarities, we haven't seen a massive, full-scale "Wu-Tang vs. RTJ" project. We've had bits and pieces. Inspectah Deck and 7L & Esoteric formed Czarface, which occupies that same "comic book grit" space that RTJ loves. RTJ has toured with members of the Wu. They respect the hell out of each other.
But maybe a full collab isn't necessary.
The influence is the collaboration. Every time Killer Mike drops a verse that feels like a heavy-weight champion's punch, there’s a bit of Raekwon the Chef in there. Every time El-P twists a synth into something that sounds like a rusted saw blade, RZA’s Gravediggaz era is nodding in approval.
The Wu-Tang Clan and Run The Jewels represent the "Anti-Pop." In an industry that constantly tries to smooth out the bumps to make things more "marketable," these guys lean into the bumps. They lean into the weirdness.
If you want to understand where hip-hop is going, you have to look at these two. They aren't just groups; they are templates for how to survive as an artist without losing your soul. They prove that you don't have to be "radio-friendly" to be legendary. You just have to be real.
And being real is the hardest thing to do in music.
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To truly appreciate this lineage, your next move should be exploring the solo catalogs. Don't just stop at the group projects. Dive into GZA’s Liquid Swords for the ultimate Wu-Tang atmosphere. Then, immediately follow it with El-P’s I'll Sleep When You're Dead. You will hear the bridge between the 90s and the 2000s clear as day. The textures are different, but the heart—the pure, unadulterated defiance—is exactly the same. That is the true legacy of these titans.