Weed, Diamonds, No Visible Shame

Vice’s music arm Noisey had a full-blown Snoop Lion moment in 2013—exclusive videos, features, and then the cover of their print magazine, with Terry Richardson behind the camera. The photo series was called "Snoop Through The Ages," a career retrospective shot against Richardson’s signature bare white backdrop, which somehow works for Snoop because Snoop could make a DMV background look expensive.

The timing was strange: he’d just rebranded as Snoop Lion for his reggae album Reincarnated, and a certain contingent was treating it as apostasy—the rapper who helped define West Coast gangsta going soft, going spiritual, going Rastafari. I never bought that reading. He’s always been more versatile and stranger than his image suggested. He made a reggae album, yes, but he’d also made a gospel album, founded a youth football league, and built what is essentially a lifestyle brand out of chronic and unearned grace.

The Richardson series reminded you of the full span of it—from Doggystyle to Snoop Lion in twenty years, weed, diamonds, and no visible embarrassment at any point along the way. He’s one of the few figures from that era who never became a caricature of himself. He just kept adding layers, and none of them ever looked like a costume.