It's an inevitable cycle in the career of a hard-hitting urban garage collective. You spring to public attention on the back of your uncompromising soliloquies pertaining to life on the mean streets of, well... in the case of So Solid Crew, Battersea.
Along the way, you terrify the parents of children who have, in the run up to their GCSEs, started to actually use the hood on their hooded top. And the kids, of course, they love it so much that they turn you into pop stars along the way.
Then to phase two: the desire to be really understood, laced with liberal quantities of paranoia. Back on the streets, "haters" are out to get you because you escaped the ghetto - and yet the world you're moving into treats you like a criminal, when actually it's society's fault and did you mention that you love your mother?
This literally happens in this week's C4 documentary This Is So Solid. After half-an-hour carefully pointing out that So Solid Crew are not as scary as the press have claimed they are, Megaman suggests that the best thing about running your own business is ensuring the safety of your mum. Well, bless.
In fairness, the last few months have given So Solid Crew a lot of time to think about their image. Since the incident at London's Astoria show last November, which saw two people shot, no venue in Britain will put them on.
For a group whose initial success came with road-testing new tracks in front of an audience, it's a crippling blow. The only recent opportunity that the 30-plus garage collective has had to play live has been a one-off fan club show.
Tabloid vilification hasn't been helped by the imprisonment of Asher D for gun possession. The reason, he says, he bought a gun was that his girlfriend and mother were threatened by people who resented his success in the group.
It must be said, compared with some of his colleagues, Asher D comes over as a thoroughly decent sort. If you were going to bet on a member of So Solid Crew going to prison, it would have been Skat D (Darren to his mum), who was convicted of breaking the jaw of a teenage fan who rejected his advances.
Unsurprisingly, for a documentary made with the full collaboration of the group, there's no mention made of the Skat D incident (in the olden days, documentaries this one-sided were sent to journalists and called electronic press kits) and damage limitation appears to have wired Skat's own jaws together.
Some things, it seems, are hard to defend even with editorial control. And yet, This Is So Solid is a fascinating insight into the way the collective works. Far from being scary, the group often comes across like something from an extended edition of John Craven's Newsround.
At one point, we see G Man and Kaish introducing their lollipop lady and thanking her for guiding them safely across the mean street of Battersea for all those years. Lisa Maffia, probably the most recognisable member of the group (and girlfriend of G Man - "We'll marry when the time is right") proudly points out that she always made her money from working in shops.
Even So Solid members with a bona fide criminal record seem to have an inspirational story to tell: it was after four months on remand for attempted murder that former drug dealer Megaman decided to form the group.
Is it such a good idea though, for So Solid Crew to show us how loveable they are? At one point, Maffia complains that the media "are just guessing we're the same kind of people [as Yardies] but we're not."
Well, many of us may indeed be guessing such a thing. But only because: (a) guns, violence, drugs and an aversion to "snitching" are a recurring lyrical motif and we have a vague idea that maybe that's the kind of stuff Yardies are interested in too; and (b) our only experience of what happens on south London housing estates is that episode of MacIntyre Undercover where the fearless Irish reporter walks around Brixton carrying a laptop.
And, actually (b) doesn't really count because it took him six hours of flashing the thing around deserted housing estates to civic-minded cries of "Put that away! Someone will steal it" to get the damn thing stolen. (Indeed, after watching that episode, my wife and I considered moving to Brixton).
There are two reasons why So Solid Crew crossed over to pop kids. The first is quite simply that 21 Seconds is a brilliant idea. Indeed, all songs that introduce the band are a brilliant idea, from the Floaters' Float On, to the Jungle Brothers' Doin' R Own Dang.
Secondly, tracks like Haters and Ride Wid Us glamorise a life that most of us can only live vicariously. At their best, So Solid songs are like miniaturised buddy movies, a stirring camaraderie evoked through empty but pleasing soundbites.
Alas, the documentary doesn't do that image any favours. Deprived of the creative fuel that comes from playing new material to their fans, we see them decamp to a residential recording studio and wait for inspiration to strike.
But inspiration appears not to strike. The group are bored and irascible. Even David Upshal, who wrote, produced and directed the documentary, alludes to their lack of motivation. Finally, So Solid Crew terminate the sessions, blaming poor catering for their dissatisfaction (Morgan: "The women ain't cooking properly. They're cooking shit... The seasoning came on a separate plate to the chicken!").
But if So Solid Crew implode before their second album sees the light of day, it'll be no bad thing. As Megaman himself admits, they've already achieved what he set out to do and come good on his realisation that "hustling artists instead of hustling illegal substances" can yield far greater dividends.
In the documentary, Megaman explains his objective was to create a brand so strong that different So Solid members could be sent out to 10 different raves to do 10 So Solid PAs on a single night.
In terms of how the marketplace works now, this kind of up-to-date thinking could have earned him a whole appendix in No Logo. The burgeoning mini empire of So Solid Entertainment already comprises a DJ agency, two record labels, a promotion division, a distribution arm and there's talk of a merchandising operation to follow.
Certainly, the concept of So Solid as a talent agency has exceeded all expectations. Currently, eight members of So Solid Crew have their own solo deals. Their stock may never be higher than now - a fact seemingly not lost on less gifted members of the group.
Following in the tradition of that bloke who toasted on the Soup Dragons' I'm Free, MC Harvey appears on the forthcoming single by boy-band Blue, a move which certainly seems to confirm his colleague MC Mac's assertion that "you can never go back to the street".
MC Romeo has signed to US modelling agency Wilhelmina - a smart move this, given the calibre of rhymes exhibited on the singles Romeo Dunn and It's All Gravy. Without the power of the So Solid brand behind them, it's doubtful whether most of the recent career opportunities afforded to members of So Solid Crew would have arisen.
The concept of 21 Seconds might be a brilliant one, but look closer and you'll notice that not a single member of the collective uses their time to say anything remotely insightful (brief précis: "Blimey! It's my turn! Um, I like girls and cars! Often at the same time!").
In pop terms, though, that doesn't really matter. No one's listening that closely. Street cred is the thing that most youth brands would give anything for, and that unmistakably urban frisson is the bedrock of So Solid's popularity with middle-class white teenagers. With Ali G currently lying low, how else is Prince William - the group's most famous fan - going to brush up on his street-smart pulling patter? ("Hello, buff lady. Can I split that ass?")
And that's why, in the final analysis, it doesn't much matter if the tabloids succeed in hounding So Solid Crew into creative stasis. It's all too late to stop Megaman's arrival as the latest in a long line of pop svengalis (see also: Tom Watkins, Simon Fuller, Simon Cowell, Malcolm McLaren) who are selling a package to the kids.
In this context, it's not so surprising to learn that Megaman and his colleagues have lately been spending much of their time visiting inner-city schools. They might be middle England's most vilified folk devils, but as music industry role models they also take some beating.
· This Is So Solid, Tuesday, 11.05pm, C4