In a shocking display of precision and validity, Kendrick Lamar has re-altered the conception of exactly what a forgettable album looks like.
It's called Mr. Morale and The Big Steppers.
Let's be clear: Everything about this album is forgettable.
The lyrics.
The production.
The motive.
Even the title holds no actual depth or relevance.
The fact Kendrick, of all rappers, produced such a dull, uninspired body of work is almost hard to fanthom. Just 10 years ago he was a fresh faced LA lyricist who did anything but tried to put you to sleep on the microphone.
He was hungry. He wanted this shyt.
Now it's obvious the Compton rapper has lost his way. He doesn't nearly have the love of hip-hop that his fans demand him to have in order to be who they think he is.
He has given up even trying to carry the torch anymore. He's become a caricature of what an artist, who lacks personality and charisma, does when the bullets are empty. They don't reload, they simply put the gun down and run.
So here a mere 72 hours after the release of an album his fans waited 5 years to hear, Kendrick is nowhere to be found. He's given his fans no sense of purpose or direction for the incoherent rambling they've force themselves to listen to -- so they do it for him. In 72 hours since the album release, I've heard very little about the merits of the album, but much more about the motive why it was made.
That's shamful.
The Good Kid from a Maad City knows the ruse is up. The Emperor MC has no clothes on and it's not a pretty aight.
