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How Could You Doubt Me?

Young Jeezy: Jeezy Speaks
DJ Drama + Young Jeezy: I Am The Street Dream

I haven't been the only one to point this out, but really for real, if you'd heard this on your personal, portable rap music listening device, maybe we'd already be agreeing that rappers should forego the album, fuck the mixtape game (!), screw a studio session (but definitely keep your man who rolls your blunts and pours your fruit juice into plastic cups), and just record "rapping" onto hi-fi answering machine tapes. Put that on the streets; see who hollers back. Maybe Jeezy says, "Fuck a song." Fuck with structure instead. Fuck that new workout plan; here that new business plan: "I got something for all you niggas man."

A Trap Or Die Roadmap

+ Time spent in traffic: "Every day."
+ Monday: "@ Magic City"
+ Tuesday: "In the 'hood"
+ Wednesday:@ "Body Top"
+ Saturday: "@ 112, steady strapped."
+ How to occupy rest of week: "Shit to do, hoes to fuck, shit to smoke."
+ Real niggas still to be freed: Big Meech, Old Dog, Mailman, Goldmouth
+ Time you have to get your shit together: "A month"
+ How long a month is: "That's 30 days."
+ "Niggas" dropped during 2:00 track: Forty-nine

It's about delivery, yes -- elevating the banal through sheer charisma, etc. -- but the banal that's elevated ain't Jeezy's day-to-day, but instead the beat-horse "rapper's voicemail" trope. It's never just the voice, the ad-lib-as-laugh-track (Ha-ha!), or flow-for-flow's sake alone. One's inextricable from the next -- hot beat or not, whole-not-parts -- which is why Jeezy could read your grandma's grocery list and you'd still listen.