Although just nearing the end of his teenage years, Kodak Black has been accruing good faith within his community for half a decade now. 2013’s Project Baby, his stunning debut mixtape, is an unflinching coming of age story set in Pompano Beach, Florida’s Golden Acres – a government-subsidized housing project that has been neglected for decades by Broward County. Two years prior, a remix of Wale’s “Ambition” had already seen the 14 year old kid earnestly penning bars such as: “I’m just livin’ with patience, dedication and greatness/how can I be good when the hood so-so my validation?” By the time Drake tapped Kodak for his first taste of commercial exposure, “No Flockin,” a fiery anti-drug, pro-getting-money-by-any-means PSA, was already a cult classic. With a slew of other viral hits under his belt before he could even legally enter a club (“SKRT”; “Skrilla”; “Like Dat”), he began to fill the void left by Chief Keef’s more reclusive tendencies.

However, just weeks prior to that fateful Drake cosign in October 2015, Kodak was fighting charges of robbery, battery and false imprisonment of a child. Subsequently, towards the end of the next summer, the 19 year old was arrested two more times in the span of one month, for charges such as possession of a weapon by a convicted felon and armed robbery. And amidst those most recent proceedings, an additional, gravely serious offense came to light: sexual assault charges stemming from an incident following Black’s performance at “Treasure City” in Florence, South Carolina.

For many of his core fans, Kodak exemplifies what it means to remain loyal to one’s community. The bond between Kodak and his home was the inspiration for his first two projects, and the aforementioned good faith is a byproduct of this honesty and authenticity. This genuine connection has created a trust that doesn’t seem to erode all that easily, persisting through the series of lewd acts Kodak chose to engage in following the sexual assault accusations. At one point, he teased an early version of his lead single, “Tunnel Vision,” in which he can be heard rapping, “I get any girl I want, I don’t gotta rape.” (A since altered version of this track is now the #6 song in the country).

This article, written by Antonia Farzan, attempts to place Kodak’s upbringing and newfound fame in perspective – that is, in a context that not only holds Kodak accountable for his own actions, but also considers the pre-existing systemic issues that paint the world he inhabits. Because, despite his actions, his fanbase hasn’t relented and his major label debut, Painting Pictures, is set to move 47K this first week.

2015’s Institution turned to look at the fallout of being raised as a self-proclaimed “project baby.” Last year’s Lil Big Pac was centered around his previous incarceration and layered with spiritual undertones. This unflinching self-reflection is more elusive than ever before on Painting Pictures. Which is odd, considering last month’s loosie, “My Time” (a song that has inexplicably flown under the radar), sees him deliver sobering lyrics such as: 

I’m tryin’ not to get locked up back again
Had to take a lot of losses just to win
I was young, jumped in that water, been swimmin’ ever since
Then I drowned, I never noticed how deep that I went

This level of self-awareness can consistently be found in Kodak’s own music (Project Baby’s “Never Imagine”; Heart of The Project’s “Better Days”; Institution’s “This Life”; Lil Big Pac’s “Can I”). Just a cursory glance at the rapper’s discography prior to his arrests in 2016 would have painted the image of a wild, but grounded street poet, with the ambitions of a Hot Boys-era Lil Wayne and the authority of prime-Lil Boosie. Expertly navigating between raw tales of perseverance and raunchy, drug-addled bangers, Kodak often showed range and nuance beyond his years. But on this debut, the emotional arcs often times takes a backseat to the artist toying with his various hit-making templates; as a result, progression stalls and his artistic shortcomings are all the more apparent. 

When it comes to the hooks, Kodak is sharper than ever, but the verses have never felt more expendable. For most of the project, the storyteller who penned Lil Big Pac’s “Letter,” capable of embodying multiple perspectives, takes a backseat to the songwriter with fast-developing pop-sensibilities. Case in point, “Tunnel Vision,” Kodak’s biggest hit to date, sports verses that are, for all intents and purposes, merely decorative. In this regard, the album feels uneven. The soul searching feels tempered and Kodak’s previously documented insecurities appear to be under lock and key. The Future-assisted standout, “Conscience,” is an emotive breath of fresh air in contrast to the largely lackadaisical soundscape. Similarly, the Jeezy-assisted “Feeling Like,” boasts a passionate verse from an otherwise subdued Kodak. With a rabid fanbase eager to forgive, forget and move on, a hardware dump meant to shuffle through a series of carefully crafted potential hits probably felt like the safe move.

The production is handled by a mix of trusted in-house talents (Dubba-AA; C-ClipBeatz) and more recently formed relationships with industry heavyweights (Metro Boomin; Mike-WiLL Made It; Ben Billions) alike. Bright, contagious beats help Kodak tap into fresh vibes, but the darker, more meditative bangers we’ve come to expect are still there punctuate the bubbly soundscape. Due to this purposeful array of sounds, the accompanying mood fluctuates at an almost dizzying rate. Tracks like “Up in Here,” a frantic panic attack on wax, are nestled between the more colorful backdrop of the Bun B-assisted “Candy Paint” or the self-assured boasts of “U Ain’t Never.”

Although still very much a developing vocalist, the Pompano Beach rapper possess great control over his distinct drawl, getting the most out of his natural dialect with every turn of phrase. Frequently opting for soulful singalongs, Black’s greatest strength on this album is his ear for melody and the bluesy underpinnings that anchor his songwriting. He seems to make a conscious effort to double down on his viability as a pop star and, in that regard, he crafts some of his most refined anthems to date (“Tunnel Vision”; “Patty Cake”; “Twenty 8”). “Patty Cake,” a menacingly fresh take on an age-old nursery rhyme, is the sort of brilliant jingle that makes Kodak such an undeniable figure in the current rap scene. “Off the land,” Kodak’s first collaboration with YSL producer, Wheezy, is a delicate, infectious bop that sees an unbothered Kodak declaring: “I don’t make that bubblegum music I spit that real shit.” Wheezy’s airy instrumentation proves to be a surprisingly seamless fit for a rapper as melodically inclined as Kodak. (The following track, another Wheezy beat that marks his first collaboration with Young Thug, feels like it would’ve found a more fitting home on one of Thug’s own projects).

Where the death of his grandfather and the birth of his daughter led to the moving stream of confessionals found on last year’s “News or Something (Remix),” such reflection is almost strategically stricken from this album’s hour-long runtime. For the most part, the duality that once made Kodak a gripping lyricist is hard to pinpoint. However, that’s not to say it is completely absent. “A mouth full of gold teeth, they think a n**** dumb/I got a head full of dreads, think a n**** illiterate” he scoffs on the A Boogie Wit Da Hoodie assisted “Reminiscing.” “Coolin and Booted” sees him reminding us: “youngest n**** in the game/I’m fourteen when I caught a case/I was fifteen with a thirty-eight.” And on the intro, “Day For Day,” he outright raps: “I was already sentenced before I came up out the womb/Streets done already sentenced me, before no cracker could.” Amidst the aloof aesthetic, he manages to sneak in the very real context that influences his every decision on and off wax. Although scattered, the pieces are there to together understand Kodak’s underlying motivation behind this project: painting the overarching image of a man sentenced from birth.

So, yes, he never fully pivots into self-reflection, but it’s hard to imagine how the public would have reacted had he done so. At one point on “Corrlinks and JPay,” an understated ballad anchored by his time in prison, he lets slip his most honest – and, unfortunately, most telling – line on the album: “I put my trust in that bitch, that hoe let me down.”

Yikes.

But the question remains: how good would Black’s debut, Painting Pictures, have to be for you to move on from the sexual assault charges? The typical response to one’s understandable hesitation with supporting the work of a problematic artist is always something along the lines of: “separate the art from the artist.” But in a genre so co-dependent on “authenticity,” it becomes increasingly difficult to do so. And it’s hard to blame someone who’s simply not interested at this point.

In the end, irrespective of your opinion on Kodak Black, Painting Pictures is a youthful, disarmingly soulful debut that ultimately suffers from teasing introspection that never fully materializes.

Notable Tracks: Up In Here, Patty Cake, Corrlinks and JPay, Off The Land

Honorable Mentions: Candy Paint (ft. Bun B), Twenty 8, Conscience (ft. Future)

Everyone and their surprisingly hip mom has chimed in on Frank Ocean’s Blonde, the follow up to his critically acclaimed debut in 2012, Channel Orange, so I guess I’m a little late. But I’d like to think of it as being on my own schedule. I ain’t had a real job since, well, ever (outside of a few extended internships that’ve done nothing but teach me that I’m best fit for making memes on Twitter). Anyways, I’m here now and I don’t really know why. Blonde (the Itunes version, not sure what else is floating around) didn’t immediately secure a firm grasp on my soul like the debut did. Channel Orange was grounded by it’s well-documented narrative, one that dealt with individuality, sexuality and interpersonal relationships, but Blonde is much more enigmatic. At first, it felt like Blonde just toyed with me for the entirety of its sixty minute runtime, teasing the idea of letting me find answers in it’s rumination only to reveal that Frank is also in the dark when it comes to The Big Questions. Soon, however, you start to realize that it’s kind of nice to have someone else admit to being as lost as you are. 

Frank spends a majority of the record playing a halfhearted hide-and-seek game with the listener. “Nikes” opens up the album with an extended monologue eulogizing everyone from A$AP Yams to Trayvon Martin, but the sentiments are conveyed through a high-pitched, almost robotic voice, as if we’re accidentally intercepting a transmission from an alien planet. The following track, “Ivy,” opens with a heartfelt quiver but ends with a frustrated screech and instruments being broken. On the closer, “Futura Free,” he even goes as far as to let you know that “you could change this track now,” well before the song is done. He doesn’t want you to see if he sticks the landing. His face is likewise masked on the album’s arresting cover. You get the feeling that Frank is fraying at the edges but refuses to reach out for any form of support.

Despite the intentional attempts at convoluting the delivery, his angst is apparent: in parts, this is the most exposed Frank Ocean has ever been. “Siegfried” recalls the taxi cab confessional of Channel Orange’s “Bad Religion,” with cries of wanting to “live “outside” established social constructs. Frank admits that he can’t relate to his peers, but fears that he’s not brave enough to feel comfortable in his own body. The eroticism on Blonde’s is blatant, even crude at times, but it’s honest. Plainly put: he’s more of a savage on this record than ever before (“did you call me from a seance, you are from a past life, hope you’re doing well bruh”). He dismisses marriage proposals as drug addled delusions, claims friendships with the opposite gender only get complicated if they’re fucking the same guy, and commands you to “wet your lips first, lick the tip now.” There’s a persistent air of nostalgia and longing for what once was or wasn’t and, regardless, will never be again. His uncertainty – in himself, his peers, our society – has only grown since Nostalgia, Ultra, and it’s caused him to double down in his insecurities.  

Closure seems to have continued to elude Frank Ocean since the unrequited loves of Channel Orange, and it’s hard to imagine if he’s ever actually experienced the feeling. Despite the wide range of emotions Ocean is able to deconstruct and expand upon on any given song, closure seems to be his White Whale. He treats it like a foreign ideology, a sentiment possibly attainable in an alternate reality where the sky is permanently cotton candy pink, the flowers white, and Michael Jackson is singing lullabies perched atop his Giving Tree. Frank wants closure, or at least he thinks he does, but instead, in his world, hurricanes displace families, sexuality displaces relationships, and cocaine never fails to add fuel to the fire. Solace comes in those select moments when we choose to let others in, despite how the said relationship may eventually pan out. 

Oh ya and the music is pretty sweet too.

Notable Tracks: Ivy, Nights, Siegfried

Honorable Mentions: Pink + White, White Ferrari, Pretty Sweet

Rating: Not as good as No, My Name is JEFFERY but way better than Views

Two years is a long time.

When Gucci Mane started his sentence mid-2014, Young Thug was just coming off his first wave of critical acclaim — for a project he made under Gucci’s wisdom. The I Came From Nothing series were whispered about but people actively paid attention to 1017 Thug. This was the “2 Cups Stuffed” era. “Stoner” would be out soon, but “Danny Glover” was still unreleased. Same with “Lifestyle” or “About The Money.”

Since Gucci’s incarceration, Thug has seen the world. He took up with Birdman and Rich Homie Quan to drop Rich Gang: Tha Tour Pt. 1. He dropped Barter 6, the Slime Season series, I’m Up and about 3 trillion leaks + features. He was charged for shit he claimed he’d never do. Troup passed away. 

On a deep cut leaked during last years Thug-Gate, Thug pays homage to Gucci and promises that his mentor would be proud of him when he got out.

How could he not be?

The menacing twinkle of “Guwop Home” is composed by Mike WiLL Made It and Zaytoven — a duo of one of the most prominent producers in the game and the pioneer of Atlanta’s current sound. Together they help the pair of rappers connect 2014 to 2016 without missing a step. Subtle horns and delicate keys support Thug’s soulful hook before giving way to a precise stutter created for Gucci to bless with his colorful imagery.

Gucci’s got orange feet and blue jeans on with a pissy yellow Rolex to match his rose gold watch. He cruises in a black Benz with a purple-haired Amazon  (with a possible Willy Wonka fetish) to match his o.r.a.n.g.e. demeanor. He’s a nice guy with a mean chain standing in front of a sea of red robes, pink bottles and a cream Range.

And when it’s his turn, Thug gives Gucci a crash course on everything he’s learned as an artist in his mentor’s absence. His voice now teases a previously muted level of lucidity — that is when it’s not reaching for unfathomably squeaky heights or rumbling lows. “Guwop’s home and we no longer miss you” he growls before shifting his focus inward and singing “dream, it’s a young nigga’s dream.”

National Siblings Day 2017 isn’t April 10th, it’s whenever this picture was taken:

This time last year, Future had just let go of one of his most deliberate tapes to date. Beast Mode was a fiercely delicate album with an ethereal aura and a codeine-coated heart. The OG Dirty Sprite and the coveted-Astronaut Status were also gifted to us regular civilians during this prestigious month, in 2011 and 2012 respectively. Meaning, Future has been leaving splashes of pink promethazine all along his path from pop star to monster™. He’s been etching “FBG” into the tree bark on his recent pilgrimage, hoping we notice. But we’re scandalous heathens only interested in finding out where he’s headed, and not in enjoying the moment. All this to say, Purple Reign probably means more to Future than it does to us. And that’s okay.

It’s okay if Purple Reign isn’t as good as Dirty Sprite 2, or if it feels like more of the same. It’s okay if he flew too close to the suffocatingly hot sun and ended up having to amuse Drake for a week. #ItNeverHappened. It was the illuminati. And it’s okay because Future’s now back to give us what we need, even if it’s not what we want (to quote another messiah). In this case, it turns out to be a stimulus package. A return to form of sorts.

This tape comes out of a period of assumed celebration that was inducted by the “victory lap” What a Time to Be Alive. But in the public forum, people wavered instead of riding the WATTBA wave, and on the personal front, Jewish lawyers became a thing of reality and not rhymes because Future Jr. still isn’t free.

Before Beast Mode dropped, Future had just dropped his best project to date. Monster was a savage rebuke to the Tinseltown anchor he had just shed. Therefore, Beast Mode — although coming at a time of great internal strife (some of which understandably leaked into the tape) — was allowed to be a celebration. Purple Reign isn’t allowed the same luxury. There are still moments of celebration but they’re dark and saturated with dissonance. “I’m drippin’ on em baby, how u luv that” sounds as depressive as it does menacing. But more in an “I hate it had to come to this” sort of way than anything else. He’s not afraid to be confrontational — he’s already got your main bitch on the side like…

It’s as if he’s choking up on the thought of “toastin’ up” in spite of her, trying his best to convince himself that it’s what he deserves, and eventually accepting that premise and falling in love with his new “girlfriend.” Whether or not his drug addictions are “real,” which I feel silly for addressing in the first place, the music is very visceral and very captivating. Future’s narrative often verges on the brink of a modern day Greek tragedy. Especially when we get a “Codeine Crazy” or, this time around, the title track “Purple Reign,” out of him. Future went from a romantic, with his fiancee in his arms under the moonlight rain, to a cynic with a bottle of xans mixed with, presumably, cyanide pills, standing alone under the flashing storm of a purple downpour. This tape is the epitome of “I choose the dirty of over you.” 

He’s trying to take his victory lap but, but his addictions keep crippling his run. He guilt keeps weighing him down. And clearcut conflicts like this are what continue to paint Future’s narrative in different shades of the same color, freshening up a dulling landscape. His festering guilt versus his open exuberance, the cynic versus the romantic, his addiction versus his enlightenment. They all consistently fight for their place in Future’s world. The former, in all cases, just so happen to be the victors on this tape.

He’s served his auntie a hit, but he’s “thankin’ God today that she don’t smoke it no more.” He missed another aunt’s funeral, and he just hopes she’ll forgive him. He’s slowly coming to terms with his past, while his future (our present) is ripping at the seams. He’s gonna hit an island “like Gilligan,” and he’s drippin’ on every Instagram model you can think of while fronting them obnoxious amounts of xannies for “no charge,” but is still writing oddly perverse odes to his styrofoam cups. He wants to be free but masochistically keeps him self shackled, and it’s got him “actin’ like a Freeband Gang Terrorist.” 

If anyone doubts the direction of this tape, just keep in mind that recently Future has apparently shot the DeLorean so far into the past that he’s actually coming back around to the future, and can be seen in interviews talking about already living in 2017. He knows they want to see him “make the wrong move, bite the bullet,” and he knows just what he needs to do to prove them wrong. Meaning, he knows what Purple Reign needs to be. 

This tape needs to be a testament to his arsenal, but still needs to start shaping the new (hoverboard) wheel (even if it doesn’t reinvent it). It needs to double down on his turmoil and his narrative, not his fictional victory laps. Because there’s still work to be done — people still think Drake is a good rapper and he lacks lyricism. It needs to be an invitation to join his 2016 run before he swerves off with the bright lights shinin’ all bright on the Bentley. Before you miss out again.

And that’s just what Purple Reign is. Underneath all the guards it puts up, there’s still new depth to be found and new sounds to be heard. And it’s all pretty “wicked (way oh way oh way oh way).”  

Notable Tracks: Drippin’ (How U Luv That), Inside the Mattress, Perkys Calling.

Honorable Mentions: Never Forget, Purple Reign

Rating: Strong Fire Marshall Future to a light Super Future.

———————————————————————-

The only scope in which Purple Reign is a failure is through the fisheye Young Thug probably sees the world through. Young Thug is the only one in Atlanta giving Future a run for his money. Made dramatic by the world’s most heartbreaking twitter feud, during which Future took some strays as well (Tito? ouch), there is most definitely an unspoken exchange of blows taking place between these two titans. Unspoken maybe because it’s an imaginary feud in my head. But still. Maybe it didn’t exist when Future kicked off his run with the holy trinity, and Thug was limping by with Barter 6‘s controversial rollout. But something definitely must have festered by the time Slime Season 1 rolled around. However, Future was still firmly in the lead in this hypothetical boxing-match-turned-footrace I concocted in my head. Then WATTBA (never) happened. Future got too showy. And then Slime Season 2 dropped, and things got spooky.

And now, with Slime Season 3 coming so so soon,  Purple Reign could be in the dangerous position of getting gobsmacked and lapped. Except there’s still Beast Mode 2…and Monster 2….and…Ape Sh!T.

And Hy!£UN35. Or MetroBoomin’. Or MetroThuggin? 

There’s no end in sight…

And, holy shit — I just realized Kanye, the well-to-do, well-intentioned, father of two, has no fucking idea he’s just step down into a civil war in the trenches. I hope he’s in it for the long haul.

#PrayForYeezus

-Narsimha Chintaluri (@Narshh)

If the premier of this track proved anything, it’s that Kanye & Kim are as painfully normal as any other couple. From miscommunication to retroactive ass-covering when your spouse flies to Italy so he can “feel like Pablo” while makin’ shoes, these two (kind of) have the same problems as the rest of us, I guess.

“No More Parties in L.A.” should be better than it is, but that really isn’t a slight on how good it is or the purpose that it serves. Kanye x Kendrick x Madlib. That should have people Big Quint-ing for the entirety of the record, besides themselves trying to process the supposed musical excellence they’ve been presented with. Instead, we get a largely forgettable verse from the self-proclaimed King and an extended exercise in stiff-arming the doubters from the self-proclaimed God. What helps the latter edge the former, at least on this track, is that Kanye, as an MC, is still more engaging than the next rapper (even if that next rapper happens to be Kendrick Lamar).

It’s hard to place Kendrick’s verse. I had trouble making out if it was current Kendrick doing a failed impression of his former self, or Kendrick from from when this song was conceived* simply delivering a subpar verse. Either way, he’s too wordy without enough charisma, too on the nose without enough self-awareness, and too showy without enough to show. “She said, “K Lamar you kind of too dumb to be a poet,”” he manages to reveal at one point, but none of it feels genuine. How very ironic, considering the track’s premise.

In contrast, Kanye’s verse is riddled with endearing moments of his unique flavor of honesty tinged with humor:

Every agent I know, know I hate agents.

The “38 year-old 8 year-old” has his daughter in pink fur, “dressin’ like Cam,” but still can’t seem to find peace of mind for more than a fleeting a moment (like a flight to Italy, for example).

This track opens up with an intro produced by Kanye himself, showing us that he’s at least in the right state of mind as far as soundscapes are considered. Reworking the same sample that found its way onto Cruel Summer’s “New God Flow,” Madlib takes over before long, and carries a funk-driven groove for the rest of the track’s run-time. This beat was in the works as early as six years ago, during the MBDTF sessions, but Kanye’s very present verse and Madlib’s natural gift at creating timeless records, help the joint from sounding too dusty.

As with “Real Friends,” “No More Parties in L.A.” raises more questions than it answers. If his “writers block” has just ended, then what state of mind could Kanye have been in during the actual SWISH sessions? What content do we have to look forward to?

Yeezus stemmed from frustration and bravado.  MBDTF and 808s… alike from thinly veiled insecurity. The College Dropout and Late Registration came out of perseverance.

So…is SWISH about to be Graduation pt. 2? There’s a whole generation of fans out there that wouldn’t be mad at that in the slightest, but there’s also a different generation of fans accustomed to Kanye continuously pushing the genre forward, not regressing into himself.

So what’s it gonna be?

Find out next time on “The Road to SWISH…”

*The timeline for this track is all over the place. Kanye received the beats from Madlib during the MBDTF sessions. Kendrick was working on The Blueprint 3 during that time, so him and Ye may or may not have linked up back then. Regardless, Kanye’s verse is confirmed to be from this past week — while the hook/pair of bars that opened up the track were recited by Ye in a documentary in like 2012. 

happy MLK day.

-Narsimha Chintaluri (@Narshh)

Every Friday I plan to briefly cover my favorite track of the previous week, as well as give shine to a few honorable mentions. This should be a great way for me, personally, to keep track of loose tracks that often end up lost in the nethers of the interwerbs, as well as an opportunity for others to discover new music. Right?

Well…that’s basically what I had in mind until Kanye decided to fuck everything up. He’s dropping G.O.O.D Fridays again until the release of his long-eluded follow up to 2013’s classic, Yeezus.  It’s still called SWISH right (update: yes, yes it is!)? I don’t know anymore. I don’t really care either — about the title, or his awful “Jumpman” freestyle, or his continued cosigning of bland artists. All that matters is that it’s Yeezy season again and I apologize in advance if he ends of dominating this list every week from now until the release of his album (spoilers!)

Now for this week’s choice:

Bankroll Mafia – “Out My Face” ft. T.I., Young Thug, Shad Da God, London Jae (prod. by Issac Flame)

Young Thug and T.I. are back with a vengeance. Although their first few collabs resulted in a smash hit and a cult classic, their most recent outing this past summer didn’t seem to fair as well. One thing is for sure though, Thug seems to be bringing out the best in T.I. each and every time. From “About the Money,” to “Peanut Butter Jelly,” Tip is sounding more nimble and more focused than he has in a decade (culminating in a surprisingly solid release in last year’s Da’ Nic).

Although London Jae’s is a relatively unknown talent next to the two stars on this record, his presence can be felt. The track is quite crowded, with 4 artists and a run-time under 4 mins, but Jae’s third fierce is verse in its urgency and memorable with its quotables. You almost believe him when he claims to “run the city like marathon.” The three other rappers, including rising talent, Shad Da God, fire on all cylinders as well. The latter does his best Young Thug impress on the hook, which works surprisingly well as a substitute for the real thing, but also continues to find his own voice on his verse, when he claims to “talk to Roscoe everyday like ‘Hey we miss you’.”  This makes for a whirlwind of a track that has T.I. (mainly restricted to hook duty) claiming that he’ll “let the yopper rain down” if you stop his pay. 

One of Thug’s recent frequent collaborators, Issac Flame, supports the sense of streamlined hysteria with his subtly ominous beat that keeps marching forward — threatening to leave any less-than-capable rapper behind.

The obvious highlight of the track, and the reason it’s propelled from a standard anthem to an infectious ballad, is Thug’s show-stopping 2nd verse. If you confused Shad for Thug on the hook, even for like a second (like I admittedly did on my first listen), Thug erases all doubt of conformity from his first bar. And he doesn’t let up until the end of the very last syllable he sputters (an inexplicable aside about his girl being extra indigent about Thug simply asking her if he she has a passport). He blissfully croons:

“Raining bullets on your cars man I hope he with it
Cause he gon’ get it, oh yeah yeah yeah he gon’ get it
I’m that boy yeah yeah but I’m not kiddin'”

He’s from “JaPAN like a fuckin’ skillet.” Get it? He’ll pimp her ride like Xzibit did it. And he’s always “showin’ love out in Magic City.” What more can you ask for?

Get out his face, please.

Honorable Mentions:

Mick Jenkins – “$3,000 Advice” ft. theMIND (prod. by THEMpeople)

“Move the crowd like a pilgrimage. Move the crowd like the police do when my niggas peacefully assembling.”

Domo Genesis – KWYM (prod. by Maffyuu)

“Fuck what you handing out/What you talking ain’t impressive to me/I lost my uncle wrong timing, learned some lessons through it”

happy friday.

-Narsimha Chintaluri (@Narshh)

K, obviously I don’t have a stream of the song here because after a year of sub-par work, Kanye thinks it’s okay to troll us. Whatever. But I’ll make sure to add the stream once I find one. 

LISTEN HERE.

In remaining relatively silent on the scene since 2013’s Yeezus Kanye has developed a backlog of tracks from the past 2-3 years, spanning a wide range of styles. Basically his entire career. From the 808s… influenced heartbreak of “Only One,” to “All Day’s” Yeezus-derived sense of urgency and genre-blending, and everything in between (re: FUCKING DROP “WOLVES” ALREADY). The Madlib-assisted “Real Friends” sees him harking back to the mid-2000s, almost epitomizing the saying “same shit, different day decade.” The content is similar to “Welcome to Heartbreak,” mixed with a little bit of “Runaway.” Kanye’s a “deadbeat cousin” surrounded by deadbeat relatives. No one has time for each other. No one even knows if they like each other. The distrust is palpabale, but so is the longing for something real. Ty Dolla $ign stops by for an un-credited feature and adds a bit of the new era soul to the track’s inherently nostalgic aura. The snippet with Kendrick Lamar, presumably for next week’s drop, seems just as promising with both rappers trading bars about disillusionment and the LA lifestyle. But one can only guess when it was recorded (Kanye can be seen here reciting lyrics from the track 2 years ago). Note the date on this tweet:

So where does this leave us? I don’t fucking know man. Hopefully the following weeks clear up the direction that SWISH is headed in. However, at this point, I think we might be in for Mr.West’s most expansive and sprawling project to date — for better or worse.

-Narsimha Chintaluri (@Narshh)