It's easy for Atlanta rapper
Jeezy to sound serious. If he told you through his permanently strained voice
that he'd bust your head or saw someone die, you'd believe him. But the
downside of that rasp is that it doesn't allow for much introspection. It's
tough to sympathize with Jeezy because he sounds impervious to pain.
And while "Holy
Ghost," the fourth song released from Jeezy's upcoming Seen It All, seems
equally impenetrable; it isn't. Hiding behind Jeezy's chants of "we lust
for alcohol and we love women" and the detached alien synthesizer is a
glint of emotion. When he asks "where'd it all go wrong?" he's
confused and borderline scared. From an outsider's perspective his rise from time in a "boot
camp" for narcotics possession to Grammy-nominated artist is
improbable. And Jeezy's clearly still grappling with the improbability. He's
more concerned about the time someone stole a friend's brick than he is about
the current Billboard charts. So when he raps about reclining in his
Rolls-Royce Ghost it's not brazen consumption. It's an attempt to sleep
comfortably, to find one dream from the past among so many nightmares.
(You can listen to "Holy Ghost" here. Seen It All drops September 2 on Def Jam.)
A "diss" is how
Consequence of Sound describes Big K.R.I.T.'s "MT. Olympus". They're
not alone in the description either. A cursory glance at "MT.
Olympus" mentions on Twitter reveals plenty of people who've had the wool
pulled over their eyes. Somehow because K.R.I.T. calls the famed "Control"
beat a beat that "an ugly b**** that everybody done f***ed raw,"
everyone assumes he's going for Kendrick Lamar's head. The hip-hop community is
lousy with this mentality. A mere mention of another rapper, that isn't 100%
glowing, will be seen as an insult by those listening. People become subliminal
attack experts and are able to make proverbial mountains out of molehills.
There's nothing
"subliminal" about K.R.I.T.'s booming new self-produced effort. Over
near-Gothic incantations and echoing piano, Krizzle immediately establishes who
he's at odds with. The battle lines aren't draw between K.R.I.T. and other rappers,
but K.R.I.T. and an indecisive audience. One moment they want something real,
the next they're clamoring for "radio." Hearing the Meridian,
MS-native tell it in the chorus, you can hear the frustration in his voice. Not
simply because he snarls "f*** them n*****," but because it sounds
like it’s done through clinched teeth.
The same crowd is incredulous
that K.R.I.T. could've "made the beat" and "mixed the
track." Any direction he heads in is the wrong way. Even if he ascends to
Rap-God status, he won't be put in the same pantheon as rappers from the
East-Coast and West-Coast. "You tellin' me I can be King of Hip-Hop, and
they wouldn't give it to Andre 3000?" he demands as the heavy drum hits
back out entirely. A kingdom's hard to claim, especially when no one's willing
to recognize your sovereignty.
Cadillactica is out some time this fall through Def Jam.
