Inconsistency doesn’t make you come close to being the best rapper in the game. Neither does occasional indolence. And you know sure as hell that an over indulgence in randomness won’t garner that top spot as well.
Those characteristics are the case however for one Dwayne Carter. “Tha Carter III”, despite its best (well, most ambitious) attempts is realistically not the classic that he, his fans, or anyone else wants it to be.
Thanks to more leaks than a gross assortment of hair grease, push backs that would put any barbershop out of business, and guess appearances on almost everyone’s album (heck, don’t doubt him collaborating with say, a Carrie Underwood) Lil’Wayne got the buzz that he wanted for this album. Even with music sales going in the toilet now a days, as Ashanti can attest to, this will more than likely be the Weezy man’s first platinum album.
Thankfully though, sales and hype aren’t the only criteria for defining greatness. A place that despite his beliefs is not the location the young veteran is at.
Is it a disappointment? If the labels of “best rapper alive” weren’t placed all over it, it actually wouldn’t be. No one can fault the man’s -who helped usher in the “swaggin pants” style- creative efforts here. It would be a total understatement to say he came out of left-field with some ideas.
Literally, it would be.
Sadly though, even with that hint of capricious spirit, there are plenty of things to annoy you. If ever there was a master of the simple simile (and there are plenty in rap but don’t worry, we’ll come back to that later), here is one place where the undisputed front man of Cash Money can came “he’s the best rapper alive.”
Right off the bat, the good and the bad are in total amalgamation, a theme for almost every track on this album. “3 Peat” has the obvious energy and sound of a quality opener, but Wayne messes himself up with the middle school level analogies “I could have died in traffic/ Bounce back like Magic/, I’m abracadabra, I’m up like Viagra/”.
“I’m up like Viagra?”
Already the tone is set: expect a lot of the word “like” and no items, topics, or things are safe from a comparison of coincidence.
The anticipated “Mr. Carter” follows up the opener. Its beat, chorus, and topic sound like it should have been on Jay-Z’s “Kingdom Come” instead of on this album. Once again, Wayne lowers his potential with another cheesy line, “I call them April babies, because they are fools/”. If this were poker, Wayne would be showing his entire hand before the first check. How ironic that this is the track where the supposed next heir to hip-hop throne (as Hova said in his verse for Wayne) is far away from that lofty seat. Clearly the superior of the two Carters is still the Roc-a-Fella man.
As said before, the good Wayne and the bad Wayne are all over this album on all tracks. None highlights this more than “A Milli”, the Bangladesh produced thumper that everyone seems to be doing a freestyle to. Everyone in the game is in accord that Wayne killed this beat. His fervor strangles the continuous background, and the beginning line “Tougher than Nigerian hair” proves to any critic that this man truly has a mix of class skill and charisma when done properly.
Still, even when he’s at his lyrical best, that ugliness can come out. His obsession to reiterate lines and words just to keep his flow is a major Achilles heel, even in “A Milli.” Seriously, was there any need to repeat a solid line like “I will make your pic a rest in piece shirt of it,” again? Great rappers don’t need to do that at all.
“Got Money” with T-Pain is what it is, a single that is just really for the party and the mainstream. Weezy’s laziness is completely evident here, but if chicks repeat the ordinary line “I’m the bomb like Tic-Tic” on their away messages, then he won. Even worst is “Comfortable”. The boring singing form Babyface is the worst of his accomplished career, and the beat from Kanye West would make you say “This can’t be Ye!”
After those mediocre at best selections, the album’s shot at being “five-mic” worthy is already out of contention a quarter of the way through. Thanks to clever concepts on “Phone Home” and “Dr. Carter”, Wayne’s sixth solo effort steers back into some respectability. The Cool & Dre produced track with Wayne presenting himself as an extraterrestrial figure maybe nauseating to some with that loud “Phone Home” chorus, but hilarious lines such as “I’m rare like Mr. Clean with hair” make it pass the test. The latter of the two songs mentioned in this paragraph is Wayne’s best song on the album. “Dr. Carter” stays on topic throughout, and his second verse on this track is arguably better than everything on “A Milli.” It may not be a track where you’re going to repeat it over and over again, but you can’t deny how good the Swiss Beats track is.
From then on, the up and down debate on whether Wayne is truly elite or not continue as the album unfolds. A return collaboration with Robin Thicke in “Tie My Hands” sees the political side of Wayne come out, but it’s nice change of pace is hurt by the fact that it was stupidity placed in the middle of the CD instead of at the end. Plus, you wish he was able to put this type of track on the Carter II instead of almost three years after Hurricane Katrina. Still, the focus was there on this song instead of featuring a few nursery rhymes to go along with the serious tone.
But for all the good done on that track, Wayne almost drops the ball on the bounce back effort from West on “Shoot Me Down.” With poor, cliché lines (What rapper hasn’t used I’m hotter than a sauna? comparison) scattered amongst some fine lyrical moments, the 25-year old took to long to get warmed up and finished lackadaisical after a sign of strength in the middle.
He brings fire (and randomness of course) literally on the Streetrunner’s produced “Playin with Fire,” continuing his career obsession with that burning element. He, along with a devastating Busta Rhymes and a pathetic effort from Brisco, brings bragging on the carefree “La.” And with Fabolous and Juelz Santana badly outshining him, Wayne’s brings a superiority complex on “You Ain’t Got Nuthin On Me.”
The highs and the lows don’t stop as the album closes out. On “Good Girl Gone Bad” featuring Bun B, Wayne spits decently but to a topic and idea about as old as John McCain. “Whip It” (not on the official track list) is a waste of time, especially when Polow Da Don embarrasses himself the way he did by attempting to rap. It was music’s equivalent to Mugssy Bogues trying to dunk.
The third Kanye produced effort “Let the Beat Build” has the “Wobblee Wobblee” man trying to be like “Hova” again with his pronouncement of “b-----“ at the end of his verses similar to “Say Hello” off of American Gangster. Through he works well with the chorus on “Let ..”, he tries to save his disappointing lyrics in the last two bars to tie them with the hook, especially at the end of his second verse (As I hit the kill switch/ Now That’s How You Let the Beat Build B----). Worst is when you find it difficult to decipher what he says in the beginning of the third verse of that song. And when you do, sadly, the repetitive innateness in him is apparent yet again.
Finally (and the thankfully for some), the album closes out with whatever you want to call it. The general title of the final track has been considered to be called “Misunderstood”, while last day reports say it is now labeled “Don’t Get It (Misunderstood). Based off the Nina Simone sampled “Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood,” Wayne seems to be on the road to a good closing. Showing apathy to those that don’t fully get him but being cognizant of those same individuals at the same time, Baby’s “son” once again displays some good lyrical dexterity that can’t be denied by any critic. Rhymes like “The barrel if he tattle/My God is my judge, not gown, no gravel/” and “Excuse my French emotion in my passion/But I wear my heart on my sleeve like it’s the new passion/” are fine. But they are then overshadowed by a rambling (and influence by drinking or being drugged) diatribe that ends in giving a “you know what” about Al Sharpton.
Long gone are “The Block is Hot” and “Get off the Corner” days. And even say goodbye to the initial Carter album’s tone, as Weezy gave mixtape DJ’s in a recent interview the same message as he did the reverend.
It’s a shame that at the end of the day, the average metaphors and the irritating “correct myself after mispronouncing a word to just make it right” personalities of the album outweigh some moments of respectable concentration. As T.I is realizing once again, it is always worth penning the song instead of trying to be like Jay-Z, which Wayne is now dead set on making a part of his repertoire .At least at the end of “Mr. Carter” did Wayne displayed love for his favorite Jay-Z song (and I won’t tell which one it is because only good hip-hop heads will know that one).
That acknowledgement is nowhere near enough to put Lil Wayne as truly elite in the game. No doubt, with predicted sales to be off the charts, no one can deny him being a superstar now. But superstars don’t make the best rap artists, especially when inconsistency, indolence, and insane randomness are apart of your skill set.
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