Instead of giving Scarface props, rappers should really look to Henry VIII.
I just finished watching Part 2 of the Masterpiece Theater's Henry VIII. What I said before applies still -- even though the ending was a little fuzzy and weak for me -- it was like watching Tony Soprano in the medieval times.
One of the best illustrations of that is the battle between Robert Aske and Henry VIII. The flashing of swords, two leaders meeting at the table to negotiate with tough talk and macho swagger screamed of a meeting between Tony and the New York crew. It was awesome. Frankly, the only fatal error was Aske trusting the king -- he should've run like hell instead of being strung up after being shot by a white hand orc with a crossbow (sorry, Henry's soldier). He's the bloody king! He can kill anyone and go, "You saw nothing" and the court would say, "OK. We didn't see shit."
All Henry VIII needed was some coked-up Icelandic stewardesses and a cigar -- then I would've been in glee.
My favorite character though was the Duke of Norfolk -- a sneaky bastard who turned against his niece, Anne Boleyn, to stick with the king, inform Henry about Aske to get in his good graces, have Aske shot down by white hand orcs (sorry, king's soldiers), string Aske up and have his hormonal 15-year-old niece wed Henry to gain power (and on top of that, encourage said niece to cuckold the king to pass of a male heir to solidify power.
Even though he ends up in the Tower of London -- the bugger lived! Henry didn't sign his death warrant! Score! A weasley bastard who lives, gets pardoned and his title back -- that's a wonderful character in my mind.