The album begins with A$AP Yams’ meandering preaching, which gets the inevitable basketball analogy out of the way early, likening Ferg’s debut to an ‘eyes closed swish…from half-court.’
As a song, it isn’t strong. Darold Ferguson Jr., a.k.a. A$AP Ferg, would be better served leading with ‘Work REMIX’ or ‘Murda Something’, stronger tracks that would do the talking for him.
The Harlem rapper touches base with all the usual clichés; ‘shrimp money’, Illuminati and his sexual prowess but without a unique angle.
The deeply voiced, aggressive hood anthems say nothing truly outrageous or memorable. His gravelly, monotone murmurings lack maturity and polish. His cadence is deliberate and regular, unlike the rapid-fire lyricism of hip-hop royalty Bone Thugs-N-Harmony, who prop up ‘Lord.’
Ferg concerns himself with excess, either boasting about it or demanding more, nothing can satisfy his hunger for greater extents of material wealth, some undefined quantity of which one assumes will finally validate the ‘street educat[ion]’ he references in ‘Murda Something.’
The production is creative, but not Yeezus revolutionary. Eerie and menacing, it’s strength exposes lyrical weakness on tracks like ‘Didn’t Wanna Do That,’ where the uneasy sounds of air raid and police sirens overshadow a song mostly composed of a nonsensical interlude.
‘Let It Go’ questions ‘what next?’ This album moves seamlessly in one ear and out the other, with little to catch your attention, but with ‘the Fergenstein’ professing he has no plans to touch ‘the brakes,’ it’ll be interesting to see if he can ascend to the heights he claims to have already achieved.
