He’s done the math, and seen how crazy indie blogs go every time his mentor Lil Wayne drops a WTF free-associative non-sequitur.
To wit: “I’m about to pop off… fireworks” “Learn to speak my language… Rosetta Stone” “Presidential suite girl… Barack Hussein” “I got these new rappers nervous… prom night.” It’s a complete cop-out. That’s also the entirety of what Drake has to rap about on his debut studio album, Thank Me Later.Įven more so than the half-assed singing and same-y, strings-and-synths beats, the pervasive element of Thank Me Later is a lyrical tendency of Drake’s that is incredibly annoying and impossible to ignore: on nearly every song, he will say the first half of a line, and then finish it with a couple of words that are kinda-sorta related to the thought he just started. Here’s his life’s story so far: he played the kid in the wheelchair on the shitty next-generation reboot of Degrassi (it’s all about the original ’80s version, real talk), decided he wanted to rap, got discovered by Lil Wayne, and put out a mixtape (last year’s So Far Gone) that received inordinate amounts of hype from certain unnamed indie gatekeepers who really should know better. His sense of entitlement vastly outstrips any accomplishments to date. Maybe I’m just that out of touch with what passes for good hip-hop these days, but could somebody explain to me what it is about Drake that we’re supposed to be getting excited about? He’s a decent MC, but that’s all he is-decent.
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