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How Rapper G. Dep Went From Incarcerated to ‘Influential’
Listen if you like: Drake, 50 Cent, Black Rob
The rap world was stunned in 2010 when Trevell Coleman, known by his moniker G. Dep, walked into a police precinct in Harlem and confessed to a cold-case homicide. He’s told his story of going to prison to various outlets, as well as to my colleague Lawrence Bartley. But I called Coleman last week to ask about a lesser-known part of his story: “Influential,” the album he released from prison in 2024, rapping over a phone line like Mac Dre and other artists before him.
G. Dep had once been a rising star, popularizing the Harlem Shake dance and releasing “Child of the Ghetto” — with its witty single “Special Delivery” — on Sean Combs’ Bad Boy Entertainment label. His career floundered as he struggled with drugs like PCP, but also with remorse for having shot a man during a robbery, when he was a teenager in 1993. It was only when he turned himself in that he learned the victim, 32-year-old John Henkel, had died. Convicted of second-degree murder, Coleman spent 13 years and four months in New York state prisons. He was released in 2024 after he impressed the parole board with his good behavior and personal growth. He also delivered a short flow at his parole hearing.
Released independently just weeks before he got out of prison, “Influential” is the sound of a man making up for lost time, packing a huge range of ideas and musical styles into 71 minutes. On the title track, he sounds like he’s having a blast, playing with vocal effects and overdubs over a beachy ’80s beat. It’s rough around the edges, but that seems to be the point. Here, he explains his method for making music behind bars and how prison influenced his style.
How did you make an album in prison?
In 2019, New York prisons installed these kiosks where you could buy and download music and put it on tablets. Before that you had to rely on getting cassette tapes in the mail, and sometimes you’d get scammed by people not sending you what you asked for. The kiosks had a huge library of old music and the music bug caught on, at least at Elmira Correctional Facility, with guys saying, “Yo, I got this song, remember this one from back in the day?”
I dove into classic music that made me feel nostalgic for growing up in the 1980s, from LL Cool J to The System to Tears for Fears. The songs were usually more than a dollar each, and I had well-paying jobs inside, like working in the foundry to make manhole covers. I probably spent close to $7,000 altogether on music over the years. Hearing all this music again was inspiring, but I could also buy instrumental beats to rap over.
Another rapper and I figured out how to rap over the phone, using an earbud to be able to also hear the beats coming in from a studio. A rapper on the outside, Legacy Ty, invited me to guest on a track. Later, while at Fishkill Correctional Facility, I connected with a producer on the outside and one song led to another until it became a whole album. I paid him by the hour, and I would be really efficient, telling other guys, “I’m gonna be on the phone the next hour,” and then knocking out a few takes of a song.
Who was coordinating all of this?
My wife found my producer. But it was really my mom who was at the center of making this all happen. She was contacting the people who made the beats and working out the rights for me to use them. She helped me make an LLC to put out the music. She really wanted to make sure I was in a good mindset when I eventually came home, and I think this was part of it, helping me get creative again.
Why is the album called “Influential”? It feels ironic, given by this point you were in prison and had been out of the industry for a long time.
One time a guy inside said to me, “I was talking to someone else about influential people in this prison, and your name came up.” In 2018, Lil Wayne had used the beat from my song “Special Delivery” on his own song “Uproar.” When the guy said I was influential, it just stuck with me, bugged me out, because after all these years in prison I’d forgotten what a high level I was at. Prison had affected my perception of myself.
Did prison shape the music itself? The album is surprisingly joyful and you sing a lot more over the phone than other rappers in prison.
Turning myself in unburdened me. Once my guilt wasn’t weighing on me, I found it easier to write lyrics, to try new things, to really sit and think about my craft. I had spent years watching and listening to how rap was changing, getting more melodic with artists like Easy Lantana, and even Drake, singing more.
Hip-hop had grown so much and I felt less limited in what I could rap about. Back in my prime, a lot of us rapped about money, jewelry and women. Nobody restricted me, but I was finding my voice, and on the streets, it was all about battling, and who could be slicker with the talk.
Now, I was older and felt more comfortable rapping about more parts of my life. There’s a song about going to a funeral, a song about sobriety, a song about my spirituality called “Jesus Peace.”
Before I was conforming. Prison gave me the space to be like, You know what? Who cares!
Liner Notes:
Album: “Influential” | Song: “Influential” | Artist: G. Dep | Lyricist: Trevell Coleman |Producer: Keaton Silver