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Today I’m talking about all things Jay Z. Reasonable Doubt, his debut album, turned thirty on the 25th of June, and Roc Nation has spent the last week or so turning New York into one long tribute to it. Pop ups in Dumbo, a takeover of the old Bowery subway station, a limited-edition of JAŸ-Z30 library card to celebrate the album. As most of you do know that hip hop is one of the things I love outside of work, and that for me, it starts and ends with Tupac and Biggie, the two greatest to ever do it, full stop.

I can see my Gen Z students rolling their eyes before I’ve even finished the sentence, waiting to jump in with Drake or Kendrick Lamar again. Not being funny, but some things aren’t up for debate, Jay Z sits just below Biggie & Pac for me, and Reasonable Doubt is the reason why.

One of the nicest gifts I’ve ever had came from my friend Steph. She knew how much I love hip hop, so she got me the big book of Hip Hop. It’s not the sort of book you finish, really. You dip in and out of it, and there’s always something in there you missed the last time round. Evergreen, that one.

Unsurprisingly, while writing this piece I found myself back in the chapter on Jay-Z and Roc-A-Fella Records. Reading it again reminded me just how extraordinary their story really was. How broke Jay Z, Dame Dash and Kareem Burke actually were when they started Roc-A-Fella, pressing up their own vinyl out the boot of a car because no major record company would touch them, the hustle and bustle of Brooklyn, and all that jazz puts the whole album in a different light.

As someone who has spent much of his career studying crime, what has always fascinated me about the album is its honesty. Drug dealing is just the surface of it. Underneath is ambition, blocked opportunity, status, loyalty, and the sort of decisions people end up making when the straight road looks shut before they’ve even tried it.

Reasonable Doubt only got to number 23 on the Billboard 200 when it came out in 1996. Eighteen weeks on the chart, nothing spectacular by the standards of the time. It took years for people to properly understand what he’d made. And what he made, honestly, is one of the smartest debut albums hip hop has ever produced. The title alone shows you that. He’s borrowing the standard a magistrate/judge needs before it can sentence someone, and turning the whole record into his own defence, his own case file, laid out track by track. People often praise his lyricism, but I sometimes think that undersells what makes him extraordinary.

• Plenty of rappers can rhyme. Jay constructs worlds. His writing is economical without ever feeling sparse. His metaphors unfold over multiple listens. His double and triple entendres have become the stuff of legend.

He could say more in sixteen bars than most artists manage in an entire album.

The features on that record still give me chills. Biggie turns up on Brooklyn’s Finest and it’s one of the great meetings of two people who both knew, somehow, that they were about to become big. Mary J Blige carries the hook on Can’t Knock the Hustle. Jaz O, Jay Z’s old mentor from the Marcy projects, shows up on Bring It On, which is its own quiet piece of history given how that relationship eventually soured. None of it sounds like a young artist borrowing credibility from bigger names. It sounds like a scene, people who’d known each other before any of them had a record deal.

Nobody was meant to get this record straight away. It took the slow route, the way things do when they turn out to be right rather than just popular for a minute. People are still reaching for it thirty years on, and that’s not nostalgia talking. It’s just that the story it tells about ambition and consequence hasn’t gone stale.

So yes, my Gen Z criminology students can keep trying to convince me that someone else deserves the title of greatest rapper alive.

Cool bro!

Then I’ll go home, pull Steph’s gift from the shelf, put on Reasonable Doubt, and remind myself why Jay-Z is, in my opinion, the greatest to ever pick up a mic who’s still with us.

And no… I’m still not getting into the Dr Dre and Rakim argument today, so go away.