YoungJeezy_LEAD

Despite being arrested on gun charges, Young Jeezy’s 7th studio album ,Seen it All: The Autobiography, is slated to be released as scheduled. It’s a situation with serious implications, so nothing to scoff at, but convenient in that it’s the best pub he could have ever asked for, especially when considering his shaky credibility. The album itself is a punchline tailor-made for the characterization of the typical gluttonous rap superstar – the sound of a snake eating its own tail. Yet even when analyzing it through that lens – the mainstream spotlight – there is still little to be excited about. The beats are weather-beaten, and the writtens geriatric.

Had Young Jeezy taken the time to invest in the album properly like a disciplined pro he’d have had a fighting chance. Instead he coasts, relying solely on yesterday’s triumphs to do the talking. Jeezy needed to stay hungry in order to remain relevant, search for new ground as to stay connected to this generation. Picking up the hot producer (Mike Will Made It) or guest (Future) can work but only if the lyricist can keep up. Jeezy does not. What he forgets is his creative lifespan, the spotlight shines on his type for only so long – three maybe four years worth of hype and it’s over, faster than it began. His attempt is dated and the disconnect from his generation to what sells is too vast for him to overcome resulting in one of the worst outputs of his career.

1/4 Block

Money and drugs, par for the course as far as flash rap goes. If there was a shooting star’s chance at anything more the opener would have been the place, but nothing doing. Cinematic beats – Tales from the Hood style, leaky organ and all – leave no room for decent writtens, even by pop standards:

1/4 Block

What You Say

Hype music that could incite a riot or a mosh pit or a total reexamination of life that begins with why Young Jeezy continues to find an audience. He’s an old toothbrush, overused and weak – a guy who’s played the kingpin role for too long. Plus there’s only one rap chef out there and his name is Coolio:

What You Say

Black Eskimo

As far as beats go it’s just an ever so slight variation of the same boring model: uninspiring melodies, an egregious amount of bass and percussion that is about the same as throwing a wet bag of nickels in a frying pan. If he wasn’t so busy big up’in himself he’d realize just how familiar it all is:

Black Eskimo

Enough

Stuck in a time warp, somewhere between the early and mid 2000s, Jeezy is mindlessly following the classic rap formula, hoping he can snag a few more dollars before falling off. This is the token grind-hard song that every clone relies on to tell their story. Yet even then it’s full of vague sketches:

Enough

Holy Ghost

Even with the help of the holy spirit, there’s an undefinable element that lingers, making every word come across as a sell like he’s the rap equivalent of a used car salesman. It’s slightly more coherent than others, which is just as bad in that it reveals just how much a dunderhead he really is:

Holy Ghost

Me Ok

Flailing his way through a Michael Myers beat like a fat man drowning in the deep end is one way to project a feeling of menace and turmoil. But the only tragedy going on here is the amount of time it drags on without relenting on the tropes of money, drugs and women – a yawner from start to finish:

Had that Murcielago, it was green like margaritas/I sold yayo, I sold albums, might as well sell some tequila/Dropped so many Lambos, thought I was a Lam ambassador/Dropped so many Rollies, niggas thought I owned a Rollie store

4 Zones

If the album regresses any further it’d need a petri dish and a microscope. He’s the Benajmin Button of rap relying on a beat that’s more in Wiz Khalifa’s lane than his. And while the rags to riches story may be true it doesn’t make it any more interesting than the first dozen times you heard it:

4 Zones

Been Getting the Money

Never any doubt that Jeezy gets paid it’s just how and if we could believe the fantastical tale attached to it. The immediate answer is ‘no’ and there’s nothing here in this soggy narrative that proves otherwise. What Akon has to do with it is anybody’s guess, just another blowhard with a story to tell:

Been Getting the Money

Fuck The World

No better way to woo a woman than to compare her to a vile of dirty crack. It’s a banana soft side that he doesn’t expose too often, but one that’s a lot closer to the real Jeezy than the Robin Hood thug lifestyle he so vehemently claims to come from. Yet another piece of the puzzle falls into place:

Fuck The World

Seen it All

Young Jeezy’s credibility has been about as shaky as a fat woman on rollerblades, and while he’s adamant about his authenticity one can’t help but wonder how much of it is true. His claim here is that it all is, yet Jay’s presence only threatens the integrity of his claim – more Hollywood than Hollyhood:

Seen it All

Win is a Win

When you spew diarrhea your whole life it makes it hard to be taken seriously. His attempt is hopeless and makes no dent in his image, which is to say that no matter how he chooses to present himself his words will garner very little sympathy- another insincere exhibition punctuated by a crappy beat:

Win is a Win

Beautiful

Nothing particularly beautiful about it other than the beat, which is only taken as such because of a lack of a better option. It’s tailor made for some storytelling, but all that comes out is a slower version of all the get money nonsense that came before. Lifestyle’s of the rich and talentless:

Beautiful

Beez Like

A fun song that’s geared to the young at heart or those that never grew up and continue to make the same mistakes over and over again. The playfulness of the beat veils all that gibberish, and it’s a crying shame that he justifies his wack lifestyle by bragging about the amount of coin he has in the bank:

Beez Like

No Tears

Not weeping in is a lot to ask at this point in the album, and the presence of a clown like Future only makes matters worse. They’re both bearing their naked soul, there’s no denying that, it’s just that when it opens the only sound coming out is that of a balloon deflating or a flower wilting:

No Tears

Perfection

Perfection is hardly the word, especially when his whole style is in response to a bunch of hungry fans who can’t tell the difference between real rap and a televised commercial set to a beat. It’s a hard sell – that what he’s experienced is any different than every other canned rapper out there:

Perfection