Starting his major label career at the age of 19, Lupe Fiasco found himself thrust into the limelight at an early age. While this certainly didn’t stop the Chicago MC from ascending to the top of the critical heap in just a few short years, it did have its drawbacks. Many of Fiasco’s early performances were shaky and unfocused; most attributed this to a lack of on-stage confidence, stemming from the rapper’s age and relative inexperience. Now 25 and two critically acclaimed albums into his career, Fiasco no longer has an excuse to hide behind his studio output. So, has the promising young rapper finally matured into a compelling performer? As D.C. learned on Wednesday night, the answer is a resounding yes.

Throughout the sold-out show, Fiasco seemed totally at home at the 9:30 Club; pacing up and down the stage like he owned it, he dominated the mic, dishing out rhymes with equal measures of ferocity and detached cool. Backed by an eight-piece band consisting of guitar, bass, drums and keyboards and bringing out hook-singing songsmith Matthew Santos on more than a few occasions, Lupe’s live setup boasted a fuller, richer sound than just about any hip-hop show this side of the Roots.

The main attraction, however, was Fiasco’s flow, and the MC certainly didn’t disappoint in that department, gripping the mic with both hands while spitting complex rhymes with clarity and focus on each song. Heck, he even looks like a real rapper now—gone are the size medium sweatshirts and prescription glasses of two years ago, replaced by sunglasses, leather racing jackets and oversized shirts emblazoned with flashy gold designs.

Photo by Lionel Deluy, courtesy of Atlantic Records.

While he might now look more like the rappers we’re accustomed to seeing on MTV, Fiasco still manages to distinguish himself from the pack with a flair for audacious production, an overall positive vibe and socially conscious, thoughtful lyrics. On “He Say She Say”, he wove a tale of corrupted youth over a bed of syrupy synthesized strings, asking the audience, “You see what his problem is?/He don’t know where his poppa is/No positive male role model/to play football and build railroad models”. Another highlight, the Kanye West-produced “The Cool” (the song from 2006’s Food & Liquor that served as the jumping off point for last year’s sprawling concept-album The Cool), washes of reverb-soaked guitar and synth, and served as the perfect backdrop for a gangster’s watery resurrection.

When he finally dusted off his breakout hit from 2006, skateboarding love song “Kick, Push", the entire club threw its hands in the air in celebration. Enthusiasm was so high in fact that Lupe had to step back and let the front row rap the first verse. And no one seemed to wonder where the triumphant horns came from on the chorus—we were all too busy chanting along. Afterward, the band threw a curve ball with “Daydreamin’”, substituting the original’s crackly “Daydream in Blue” sample for a jazzy, mid-tempo intro. Fiasco responded by singing the hook himself before diving headfirst into the verses, attacking each line with an intensity only hinted at on his LPs.

After a breathless interlude by motor-mouth disciple GemStones (essentially the Twista to Fiasco’s Kanye), Lupe returned to the stage in a black leather jacket, the hood pulled down low over his eyes. Delving into some of the darker material from The Cool, he opened the encore with “The Coolest”, candidly admitting “I love the Lord/But sometimes it’s like that I love me more”. Before bringing the encore to a close, Fiasco shared his thoughts on populist hip-hop with the crowd (“Soulja Boy is hip-hop whether you like it or not…I give kudos to everybody out there trying to do they thing.”), before contradicting himself with a knowing wink, in the form of “Hip-Hop Saved My Life”, a song that features the hilarious, pitch-shifted parody hook “Something, something, something/Stack that cheese.”

Though he kept in-between song banter to a minimum throughout the performance, Fiasco finally broke his relative silence during the encore, addressing the audience directly. “Lupe’s fucked up in the game,” he admitted, “Yeah, I’m a little sick.” It’s surprising that he felt it was necessary to share this fact—given his faultless performance, we might never have guessed it.