Review Summary: Sponsored by tumblr.8 of 8 thought this review was well written
Travis Tatum Mills, better known by his rap persona T. Mills, is just another hack in a long line of embarrassing white scene kids turned hipster who traded in gutturals for bars. When you don't posses enough musical skill and suffer from the delusion that you contain the swag of some of the best minds in the game Leaving Home
is what transpires. I've had a vendetta with this tattoo covered rat tailed loser for quite some time and this release certainly didn't squash any grudges I've held against his music. It doesn't help matters that a majority of the songs bite off rapper Drake's brand of female friendly r&b driven rap or that he has the lyrical capacity of an even more immaturely lame Mac Miller.
I would say I'm surprised this kid even made it out of Riverside, California without being booed into non-existence but much like those he attempts to steal from he's a safe haven for underaged girls in heat. Then again with singles like '*** Em (With My Vans On)' where he "sings" in all his auto-tuned glory, "I don't treat em, I don't love em, I *** em with my vans on," who could resist such charm. Figuratively, this is the garnered appeal of Mills whole career so he must have some real legit skills in the mack department right? Well if you consider "you so scandalous but damn that pussy glamorous" as a certified panty dropper then congratulations, you've officially accepted to reach into the bottom of the barrel at your own admission.
While this album isn't as unforgivable as his debut Ready, Fire, Aim!
I still have to wonder why this kid tries to flaunt this ego that's so unbelievable it's hard not to laugh, much less swallow his nauseating word play. I will give credit to some of the beats this time around which I'm positive only turned out plausible because Mills had absolutely no hand in them. It sure surpasses the god awful arrangements of 'Stupid Boy' or his gender reversed rendition of 'Tik Tok' by Kesha. Unfortunately, when you lazily flow over every track trying to sound like a even cornier version of YMCMB with lines like, "your body is off the hook, so is my phone line," everything collapses.
It seems his core goals in life revolve around nothing but getting wasted, using women, and having a shattered sense of self-aggrandizement. I suppose I could lighten up and accept the fact this is what rap music has become so Mills is merely playing up the role one must portray to make it in this industry...but I have something silly people call standards. The whole entire endeavor of Leaving Home
is nothing more than a stale, repetitive, and completely shallow mess meant to make some dude in a snapback hat or chick with a feather in her hair feel like they're not a walking punch line. It's already bad enough this is considered an acceptable form of artistic expression.
I for one am not buying this whole pathetic revolution of suburban wiggster assholes who think they have as much style as they do money in their trust fund. T. Mills brings nothing of value to the table and I'd much rather be involuntarily subjected to someone who can at least back up their outrageous claims. Perhaps when this self-proclaimed alternative heartthrob stops rapping about his love for strippers and being associated with the scum of the music universe he might one day throw everyone for a loop. Until then he's just another name that induces vomit when I hear it come out of some airheads mouth. So please feel free to hate but beware because this retard might steal your bitch.