I WAS NEARLY crushed the first time I met E-40. It was nearly 10 years ago, a winter typhoon was in effect, streets were flooded, and gusts of wind were turning umbrellas inside out. I heard 40 was signing copies of In a Major Way (Jive) at Tower Records on Durant Street in Berkeley, and I sprinted through ankle-deep water on the sidewalk. I slid through the entrance and, after knocking down several neat stacks of the new album, collided in quick succession with three enormous men in blue parkas. I struggled to stay upright, got a laugh by mumbling about driving sideways – a reference to one of the album's best tracks – relaxed, and introduced myself.

E-40 is cagey enough to approach an interview like a poker game, but his sense of humor and natural friendliness often make for a fun interview. The truth is that talking with 40-Water (call him Charlie Hustle if you want to, or the Ballatician, or Forty Belafonte, or Forty Fonzarelli) is simple: ask a short question, lean back, and listen. He's got a lot to say, and most of the time it's worth paying attention to. On that day, 40 wanted to talk about the deal his label – Sick Wid It – had just signed with Jive Records.

Last fall, after a decade with Jive, E-40 took stock of his situation and decided to make a change. Although 40 describes his relationship with Jive positively, the fact is that if he were happy and getting paid, he'd have stayed. Instead, he rejected whatever Jive had offered and signed with BME, the label founded by one of the hottest of today's young rappers, Lil' Jon. When E-40 looked at who was making the wheels of hip-hop turn, he saw the Atlanta artist – and, he says, noting Lil' Jon's many commercial ventures, he saw some of the same invention and energy he saw in himself.

Rare authority

A West Coast legend, E-40 proved to be an innovator with a fertile imagination and a rare mix of musical and social smarts. His tracks were full of luminous bursts of lyrics delivered over beats that didn't sound like anything you'd heard before. East Coast audiences seemed to run hot and cold in the face of a flow so unusual and unfamiliar. And there were times when perhaps the quality of his work was uneven – on Loyalty and Betrayal (Jive, 2000) in particular. His songs never left the groove behind, but he rarely let you kick back and relax. He rapped with a rare authority and backed it up with a business operation that couldn't be knocked – setting an example that kept other rappers going. His gift for language was so finely tuned that he has become nationally known as the creator of words and phrases that make the language of popular culture come alive. "Fa sheezy"? 3 X Krazie might've created it, but 40 spread it around. "Flamboasting"? E-40 again. "Poppin' collars"? 4-0. "Jackin' slacks"? "Sprinkle me"? "The mailman"? Those were E-40.

Still, when he signed with Jive in 1994, the deal set the standard for indie rappers as far as artistic freedom and finances were concerned. The contract, which involved not just his albums but, among other things, solo work by his sister Suga T and his cousin B-Legit, and albums by the Click, which all three are in. It brought him closer to narrow-minded East Coast fans and at the same time was a kind of declaration of independence on behalf of the West. He wanted to reach East Coast audiences, but with solid fans in the West and South, he didn't have to.

'A hell of a deal'

A decade has passed, and 40 and Sick Wid It have a lot to look back on. "I can't really complain," he says. "I had a hell of a deal, and I made a lot of money." Fans might listen to "1 Luv," from In a Major Way, to get an idea of what that has meant to the Vallejo native: "Let me tell ya lil bout me / E-40 and the C-L-I-C we used to have to use / Sheets for curtains, socks for washtowels / I was happy as hell when my cousin gave me his hand-me-downs / This ain't no happy Shirley Temple talleistic crap / This here is serious more Realistic than Radio Shack."

Ask him about how he launched his career, and you'll find out where the nickname Charlie Hustle comes from and that "in order to do a little right, I had to do some wrong." What he did all the time was use his mind – he's blessed with far more than street smarts – to set up and build his record label, even as he pushed his own career. The difference between wearing his cousin's hand-me-downs and living in a private community in Fairfield is, well, bigger than a dream.

Like most E-40 fans, I'm anxious to hear what the Lil' Jon- and Rick Rock-produced album will sound like. All I can do is wonder if Charlie Hustle dwarfs all those "lil'' Southern rappers. Meanwhile, as the New Bay movement adds another chapter to the book of Bay Area hip-hop, its members know who helped write its opening lines.