The unassuming emcee

Mike Dee quietly carves out a niche in Tulsa’s hip-hop scene

If you’re a local hip-hop fan, chances are you’ve witnessed Mike Dee bless Oklahoma stages with his loud, aggressive, fast-paced style. He raps with the mic in his right hand while his left hand gestures rhythmically, his eyes widening as the song continues to build.

Despite Dee’s energetic stage presence, on a personal level he’s one of Tulsa’s more reserved emcees—his unassuming, down-to-earth demeanor comes through in his music and in person. When I messaged him to ask if we could talk, he asked why I chose him, as if there were a better option. This attitude is precisely what makes Dee so fascinating. 

Michael Dee was born in Greenville, Mississippi, but moved frequently; it wasn’t until high school that his family finally settled in east Tulsa. Dee attributes his introverted qualities to this frequent moving.

“I didn’t want to be seen,” Dee told me over drinks at Mixed Company. “I was just trying to stay in my little corner and not be bothered.”

This shyness worked in his favor. Rather than spend all his time with friends, he devoted himself to his craft, and it paid off: Dee is a self-taught beat producer and guitarist, responsible for the production on seven of the nine tracks on his 2013 album Mikey’s Room. 

Dee was selective about his friends but formed close relationships with a few key people, including his cousin and local emcee Surron the 7^th, who introduced Dee to rap. As teenagers, Dee and Surron spent their time at each other’s houses, writing and practicing. 

“We would just freestyle up on cassette players,” Dee said. “Have one on one side of the room playing a beat while we were rapping into the other one.”

Dee counts Surron as one of his most important influences. The respect is mutual.

“I’ve watched him teach himself how to produce beats, play guitar and engineer,” Surron told me. “Not to mention his aggressive style that I can only assume derived from years of hunger and passion, a deadly combination that could easily destroy any competition.”

Dee began his career as a Christian emcee, with the initial goal of offering his two younger sisters a positive alternative to the popular music they enjoyed at the time. But as time passed, the hypocrisy he witnessed within the church caused him to distance himself from organized religion.

“Come to find out the Christian scene can be just as dark as any other scene,” he explained, not with disdain or bitterness but in a matter-of-fact way, alluding to the fact that no one should be held to a perfect standard.

Even though Dee made a shift to secular rap, he stuck to nonviolent lyrics and positive themes, and made a conscious effort to keep the cursing to a minimum. “I want everybody to be able to recite my stuff.”

Some may assume that positive lyricism means skirting around real issues. That’s not the case here. Dee fearlessly addresses harsh realities, often touching on social issues like teen pregnancy, racism and the prison system. 

In January, Dee released “Fail,” which confronts current issues involving race and police brutality.

If they can’t kill you now put that ass in jail
they put dirt up on your name as they put dirt up on your grave
Look ya momma in the face and tell her you should be ashamed

“Kaplow,” a track from his first EP The Sound of Redemption, demonstrates Dee’s capacity to be soft and reflective. It discusses the vicious cycle created by fatherless homes, from both the child’s point of view (“Pops wasn’t round so he had to look around”) and the father’s (“Use em to feed his need for comfort”). 

In the hip-hop scene, it’s common to disguise insecurity with excessive boasting. Dee doesn’t do this, but he’s not immune to self-doubt; he even raps about it on “In My Head.” While he may not always recognize the full extent of his talent, his fellow rappers do. 

“[Dee is] the nice guy that’s just mean enough to make sure he doesn’t finish last,” said Derek “First Verse” Clark, a member of Oilhouse and frontman for Verse and the Vapors. “I feel like you can put him on a stage with any group of emcees and he can convince you he’s the best up there.” 

“Luckily for them he’s the humble type who chooses to focus more on his craft and less on being the center of attention,” Surron continued. “Which leaves him in a complex situation because at this point the only thing missing is notoriety and major support from his city. But there are two things I’m certain of, he’s working on that and the best is yet to come.”

Editor’s note: This story was adapted from the music blog “Reflections of a Hip Hop Head.” For more of Mary’s perspective on the local rap scene, visit reflectionsofahiphophead.wordpress.com.