It’s been a tough couple of years for the Teflon Don, to say the least. In January of 2013, Rick Ross was the victim of a drive-by shooting, although he was not seriously injured. A few months later, he lost a lucrative sponsorship from Reebok after some of his lyrics in rapper Rocko’s song “U.O.E.N.O.” described an encounter that could only be characterized as date rape. While Rick Ross certainly has tried to sweep the latter incident under the carpet, He puts the drive-by shooting at center-stage for his new album, Mastermind. While the shooting does not really inform the overall tone or flow of the album, an audio recording of a 911 phone call from the scene titled “Shots Fired” is featured early on, perhaps in an effort to Ross’s confirm authenticity as a gangster. The message seems to be that this is a man who was gunned down and has come back for revenge, not with bullets, but with raps.
But while Kanye West’s “Through the Wire” gave meaningful insight into how an almost fatal car crash affected West’s outlook on his music and his life, we soon forget that Rick Ross was ever supposed to be an underdog because he refuses to say anything significant about the event. Where as Kanye rapped: “Just imagine how my girl feel / On the plane, scared as hell that her guy look like Emmett Till,” Ross can only muster: “False floors for firearms is how you should ride / Tried to murder me while in mine so that’s how I survived.” His boisterous attitude floods the album throughout its entirety, delivering what we’ve come to expect from a Rick Ross album. At a time when artists like Kendrick Lamar, Drake and Kanye West are sincerely exploring deeper emotions, Rick Ross remains impenetrable. With innumerable references to his cars, women, cocaine and gold chains, the only emotion Ross is caught expressing is the emotion (or sin) of pride. Ross probably spends a few too many moments reveling in his success and his clearly ‘90s inspired gangster affectation is difficult for the listener to indulge in for all of the EP’s nineteen songs; still Ross has done an exceptional job recruiting some great guest performances, as well as picking some beautiful beats.
Those guest performances include Jay-Z, Lil’ Wayne, Kanye West, Meek Mill, Big Sean, and French Montana, who shine brightly, sometimes even more so than Ross. The album’s pinnacle, “Sanctified” (produced by DJ Mustard and Kanye West), combines Betty Wright’s soulful vocals with ghostly synths that make the song a sure-fire radio hit. Kanye’s verse is entertainingly self-deprecatory: “God sent me a message, said I’m too aggressive / Really!? Me!? Too aggressive!?” On “The Devil is a Lie,” Jay-Z, who has spent his career honing his braggadocio, lays down a superb boast: “You seen what I did to the stop and frisk / Brooklyn on the Barney’s like we own the bitch / Give the money to the hood, now we all win.” Jay’s presence brings out the best in Ross who delivers some amusing lyrics: “Club Armani where the cash is / Dubai I can do it like a sheikh / Top floor nigga, Burj Khalifa!” but stays in his lane for the most part, filling out verses with references to his ownership of Wingstop Restaurants: “Wingstop owner / lemon pepper aroma / Young black nigga, barely got a diploma,” or a personal favorite, “Came from the hood / ain’t nothing changed / Still lemon pepper on my motherfucking waaaangs.” Although Ross’s features are usually stronger than him in lyrical style and content, they keep the album moving and offer the variety necessary to keep things interesting.
Ross does step away from the triumphant horns and drum crashes of ‘90s era hip-hop to briefly explore his more melancholic side. Lil’ Wayne’s support on the “Thug Cry,” an eerie, bass-heavy track, showcases some of Lil Wayne’s best work in quite a long time. On “In Vein,” the Weeknd slows things down even further with his signature gloomy and carnal vocals. Delivering the hook and a verse, the Weeknd’s presence pervades over the entire track. When Ross finally shows up to do his part, the result is surprisingly satisfying. The bravado is undimmed but his growling voice contrasts nicely with the Weeknd’s desperation, which manifests itself through his high-pitched moans and wails.
Ross raps so much about Ross (and chicken wings for that matter) that it can be easy to turn off from the self-appointed “mastermind.” But if we realize that he might not be taking himself as seriously as previously thought – we remember that this is a genuinely fun album. On his sixth album, Ross doesn’t stray far from doing what he does best. His lyrics and flow have always been limited, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t enjoyable. No one is going to be running out to proclaim Mastermind a classic or that Rozay is changing the face of hip-hop; that doesn’t seem to be his aim anyway. The album benefits greatly from guest artists who spice things up and is jam-packed with well-picked music from the likes of DJ Mustard, J.U.S.T.I.C.E. League, the Weeknd, and Mike Dean. Mastermind meets its modest goal; “Sanctified” is the hit that we’ll learn all the words to (really just Kanye’s verse) and the rest of the album will let us live out our thug ambitions vicariously – at least for a few weeks. Just make sure that when the interviewer for your summer internship asks how you work with others, you don’t respond: “Catch a nigga slipping / put a bullet in his temple / Homie, it’s the same rules, money talks, simple.”
B+ •
