Once upon a time, hip-hop reflected -- and reflected upon -- the urban experience: It was another black art form akin to jazz. These days, its purpose appears to be to give suburban white teenagers a vicarious thrill. In the commercially driven dichotomy of contemporary hip-hop, the gangstas and their ilk too often subsume those artists still creating vigorous, transformative sounds.

Ursula Rucker is bringing intelligence and poetry to hip-hop.

Ursula Rucker's new album "Supa Sista" strikes a blow for the more intelligent manifestation of the genre. Rucker is first and foremost a poet -- one whose words dance off the tongue.

"Poetry is a foremother to hip-hop," says Rucker in an e-mail interview, "so I consider hip-hop -- sincere, innovative hip-hop -- somewhat of an extension of poetry: modern-day griots [traditional West African storytelling]."

A veteran of Philadelphia's open-mic poetry readings, Rucker has collaborated extensively with both hip-hop collective The Roots and with drum 'n' bass pioneers 4 Hero. On "Supa Sista," she has an array of helpers, including the 4 Hero crew and Philadelphia producer Robert Yancy. The words, however, are what keep the diverse contributors together.

"The consistency comes from mutual respect and understanding of each other's craft," says Rucker. "And also, everyone knew that the poems are the foundations and front doors to each track."

The track "Seven" traces the beginnings of a relationship from the mesmerizing thrill of infatuation through the challenging intensity of partnership and parenthood. The music follows the same parabola, beginning in dizzy syncopation before locking into a jazzy, soulful chorus. After the plastic passion of most pop music, the mature smolder of "Seven" and "One Million Ways to Burn," a paean to sensuality, is like a foreign language.

Passion is the defining quality of "Supa Sista": sexual, political and artistic. Rucker cites Prince as a musical inspiration, and they share the same almost sublime sensuality and the same gently stated social urgency.

"My artistic agenda," says Rucker, "would be: to maintain my integrity and heart in the process of translating and then sharing my feelings, thoughts, observations and opinions about my world and the world around and in front of me.

"I do this as personal therapy, as well as in the hope that my private enlightenment may then enlighten someone else; so much so, that they would be prompted to make positive changes, small or grand."

It comes down to a sense of responsibility, she says, to herself, her children, her community and her audience.

It is a responsibility that Rucker finds most current hip-hop and black music artists shirk. The track "What???" is a rebuke to the empty, exploitative violence of contemporary hip-hop, delivered with a driven yet jazzy riff.

She doesn't flinch from portraying violence herself when the end is justified. "The Unlocking," her first collaborative effort with The Roots, was an inversion of a regular hip-hop trope: a retelling of a gang rape in which the victim kills the perpetrators.

"Supa Sista," includes "Song for Billy," an almost unbearably graphic tale of a drug addict offering her young daughter for sex in exchange for a fix. Rucker's delivery is direct, almost flat, as if she knows that the terrible narrative requires no souped-up emotional resonance from her.

" 'Song for Billy' is a poem I wrote about five years ago," explains Rucker. "My friend Billy is a photojournalist. He was, then, working on an expose of children whose parents were drug addicts. I included it on the album because it felt right. I don't know if it's so much courage [that prompted its inclusion], but care and compassion for human experiences."

In another switch from mainstream popular music where women are generally the focus of sex or beauty rivalries, in the title cut and "Letter to Sister-Friend," Rucker celebrates what she calls "shelectricity."

"Humanhood is important to me," she says. "Sisterhood, specifically, is important to me because solidarity is empowering and conducive to progress.

" 'Supa Sista' is my self-proclaimed title," she continues. "It encompasses and celebrates all my dimensions/roles as a womanperson: mother, lover, artist, part-time/fledgling activist, friend, daughter, sister, bleeding heart, etc. including strengths."

This self-knowledge gives "Supa Sista" a mature, sassy confidence. "Some may attempt to falter my step, knock me down," she half sings, half chants on the opening cut "Womansong," "but I am resilient . . . I just bounce."

"Supa Sista" lives up to the superlative in its name by redefining the fusion of poetry and music that was originally hip-hop, returning to it a grace, conviction and beauty that it now often lacks.