Kodak makes a point of drawling “who the fuck chose this sorry ass beat?”, but otherwise the rest are funny (21: “sent your bitch to the store cuz we ran out of soda”), surprisingly solid (Yachty), or zig-zag through melody, verbosity and unfettered joy with head-spinning versatility. The clichéd descriptor of it being a “lightning in a bottle moment” flies in the face of this new generation, but that’s just what it is. This thrilling sensation of all-around newness doesn’t even extend to the other, regrettable inclusions of Lil Dicky and Desiigner. The cypher is no technical marvel, save for maybe Curry’s machine-gun verse rather, it captures a bunch of giddy kids, itching to break free from the shorthand descriptor of “mumble-rap” (read: not lyrical)… with the polite exception of Kodak Black.
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