Take rapper Nas' latest album—which debuted at No. 1 on Billboard's pop chart and is already hailed as one of the year's top releases. On the cover we see not Nas' face, but his back, whipped and striped, the welts and scars forming a massive "N" across his shoulders.

The photo tells you almost everything you need to know about the album. It tells you that Nas plans to take his listeners through a lyrical lecture on race and racism—that he'll rip through centuries of Black History in America, tear through stereotypes and rail against injustice, both real and perceived. It's a rambling, rhyme-filled ride both eloquent and obscene: This is an album with something to say, though Nas' profanity and venom can make it difficult to hear.

The album's photo, without uttering a word, gets to the crux of the matter. How fortunate, one would think, that public outcry forced Nas to scrap his planned title: N-gger (without the censoring dash we've inserted).

Race Against the Machine
Nas, born Nasir Jones, is no stranger to controversy. At 35, he's one of rap's elder statesmen, and he's never softened over time. In 1999, he and Jay-Z made public a bitter (and, in terms of subsequent record sales, successful) feud, both slamming each other's work relentlessly. The two made up in 2005—Nas is now part of Jay-Z's Def Jam Records—but he quickly sparked more talk when he released another album with a controversial title, Hip Hop Is Dead. In September 2007, in the wake of a shooting spree on the campus of Virginia Tech, Nas performed a free concert there—an appearance that raised the ire of, among others, Fox News' Bill O'Reilly. How, O'Reilly asked, can a rapper who glorifies violence and has an arms conviction on his rap sheet be welcome at Virginia Tech?

"He doesn't understand the younger generation," Nas responded. "He deals with the past. The people he represents are Republican, older, a generation that has nothing to do with the reality of what's happening now with my generation."

But all of that was just a precursor to his latest pot-stirring.

At first the album was to be called N-gga, then Nas announced on Oct. 18, 2007—less than six weeks after the Virginia Tech concert—that it would be N-gger. The title ignited a massive controversy, and civil-rights stalwarts ranging from the Rev. Al Sharpton to the Rev. Jesse Jackson took exception.

"The title using the n-word is morally offensive and socially distasteful," Jackson said in a statement. "Nas has the right to degrade and denigrate in the name of free speech, but there is no honor in it. Radio and television stations have no obligation to play it and self-respecting people have no obligation to buy it."

"We will not support and we will not continually be assailed by other individuals who want to use that type of term in our presence," said NAACP spokesman Richard McIntire. "This has gone on long enough."

At first, Nas tried to explain. "We're taking power away from the word," Nas claimed to MTV News. He tried to wave the controversy away as a generational difference—that younger black Americans don't perceive the word the same way Jesse Jackson does.

"[People] shouldn't trip off the title," Nas added. "The songs are crazier than the title."

Uncivil Discourse
Eventually Nas backed down and took the word off the album cover. But he was right: The songs are crazier. Most include the offending word, and many are musings on all the baggage it carries. On "Ya'll My N-ggas," Nas narrates, "They got Nigeria and Niger two different countries/Somehow niger turned to n-gger and s--- got ugly." "You Can't Stop Us Now" features him rapping, "You can only be destroyed by believing/That you really are what the white world considers/A n-gger." And "Hero" rails against the forces that made Nas change the title:

"So untitled it is/I never change nothin'/But people remember this'/If Nas can't say it/Think about these talented kids/With new ideas/Being told what they can and can't spit."

It's a line of logic that, within the confines of this profane and provoking album, makes little sense. There's a world of difference between censoring an album and censoring its cover—where folks who have no interest in Nas would be forced to absorb, not his message, but one disconnected, inflammatory word. And clearly, the album's contents were not censored in any way.

Nas invokes Nation of Islam leader Louis Farrakhan, confesses to a love of fried chicken, calls for revolution and makes a plea for peace in the space of just a few songs. He tears apart Fox News and salutes Barack Obama. He applauds how far black culture has come and argues how far it's yet to go. And he revels in extreme profanity all the way through.

His underlying message resonates with lots of Americans, from the Rev. Jeremiah Wright (whom Nas also disses) to regular kids. Many would also disagree with huge swaths of it, of course, but they'd be ill-advised to ignore it. Nas underlines, if nothing else, the perception of racial divide that still exists in this country—a divide that most of us would love to see healed.

"Somebody asked me, what's your inspiration for this album?" Nas told MTV News. "Everything that's happening every day."

But here's the deal: My mother told me that it's not just what you say that's important, but how you say it. And whatever Nas has to say—be it good or bad or a mix of both—will be lost to a lot of listeners because of how he says it.

Like it or not, words have power. The n-word has been around for hundreds of years: Its meaning is not going to be stripped away by one rap album—even if Nas sincerely wished it. And, in showering his listeners with the word, the meaning of his songs nearly drowns in the process.

Civility begets civility, and civil dialogue, I believe, can beget genuine civil rights. In fact, it's been shown throughout American history as being the best way to affect change.

Nas, it's said, knows his history. It'd be great if he learned from it.