Pitchfork

At first listen, it's rote, lazy money-talk, and yet another example of Weezy's creepy insistence on referring to Birdman, the guy who runs his record label, as his father. But this thing is on the radio all day anymore, so there is no first listen, and it sneaks up on you. Most of that is producer TMIX's track: drums collapsing over each other, itchy synth bleeps, tubas blaring away underneath everything. Urgent and insistent, it punches through mental defenses. It takes more time to really notice Wayne and Baby, since their voices are buried so deep in the track. Wayne's on a ridiculous roll right now, using his bleary croak like a cartoon sound effect; "Where I'm from we see a fucking dead body everyday" comes out souding like "Way a fum we see a fuckem day body ay-day," and it's not unintentional. He's sinking deep into his New Orleans accent, letting it pull his words around. And he must be teaching Baby how to rap, because the old man sounds like he's learning to cross a stream by jumping from rock to rock, flitting around the beat instead of bulldozing it. On the hook, they toss words back and forth like hot potatoes. And maybe that's why it doesn't sound like much at first listen; it just seems too easy.