Mississippi is still one of the states where racism can still rear its ugly head. It's less of a problem than it might have been once, but it's still something the state's rap artists have to deal with. They do it by celebrating the good, not just exploring the bad, and in showing pride in where they come from. Sure, there's poverty and boredom and discrimination, but the artists who come from these small towns say they see something else: the sense of community and the camaraderie of a place where everybody knows everybody, and everybody faces the same struggles.
"People have a lot of [misconceptions] about what it's like now," Big K.R.I.T. says. "But where I'm from, if someone doesn't like you for your race or religion or whatever, you know it. They don't hide nothing. You know not to affiliate yourself with them. Other places, people may not like you, but they'll still smile in your face. Where I'm from is humble, and people are mad appreciative of what they have."
Jade Harris, who performs as Tha Joker, agrees. The 18-year-old MC comes from Kosciusko, a town of around 7,000 people. It's slap-bang in the middle of nowhere, 80 miles north of Jackson. But Harris hasn't let that stop him – he has managed to amass more than 26m views on YouTube.
"It's a very small town," he says of Kosciusko. "Everybody knows everybody, and a lot of people don't know nothing but that. It's very downtrodden. It's not a big city like New York or LA, but we have our own roots. People are nicer to each other. The sound of the music has gotten better over the years, and people have been getting more creative."
There's something else. It's very tempting to make a direct connection between the rap coming out of these small towns, and the blues. They spring from the same places, geographically. And if Mississippi gave the world the blues, it would seem almost poetic that hip-hop – which the blues helped build – would come full circle back to its birthplace.
Tempting, but not necessarily right. There are lines between blues and Mississippi hip-hop, but they're meandering, and very thin. "To say, this person is talking rapidly in rhyme so obviously there's a connection to southern blues, I think that's really facile," Neff says. "I don't think that respects the complexity of the genre."
PyInfamous agrees. "It's not like someone gets inspired to rap by listening to the blues. I think it's the fact that blues and even further back than that with spirituals and slave songs: they were for a way for individuals to communicate with one another or just to express what was going on. That's where the blues originated from – a lot of that is the same in hip-hop: frustration in where I am, or talking about the things I want that I can't attain at this point."
Beatmakers tend to steer clear of old blues records, which don't lend themselves well to sampling. That isn't to say that modern blues and hip-hop don't get along sometimes: Big K.R.I.T hooked up with BB King for the astounding Praying Man. "I didn't want it to sound like a hip-hop song," he says. "It had to sound authentic."
Small towns don't retain their talent. PyInfamous didn't stay in Crystal Springs. He lives in Jackson now. Big K.R.I.T spends much of his time in Atlanta. Tha Joker travels around the US, bringing his club-friendly rap to audiences a world apart from Kosciusko.
But in a way, it doesn't matter. Because the gas stations still stand. There are still young rappers who hang out there, with their car doors open and smoke hanging in the air. And now, they aren't just listening to Nas and Rakim and Outkast. They're listening to PyInfamous, Big K.R.I.T, Tito Lopez and Tha Joker as well.