Review Summary: Horrifically mediocre production, unintelligible delivery and insanely stupid lyrics, this is one of the worst releases you could ever have the misfortune of listening to.
If modern hip-hop music can be accurately compared to blockbuster films, Kanye West
are like Inception. Easily accessible to the average viewer/listener and complex enough to be satisfying to the more discerning type. Waka Flocka Flame
is like the Expendables II, enthusiastic, action-packed, and self-aware. Filled with an energetic playfulness and intense charisma. Gucci Mane can be compared to the Transformers franchise, in the sense that his songs are absolutely horrible in every single conceivable way, yet people seem to, for some inexplicable reason, enjoy them. If you gave a mentally disabled infant child a crayon, a digital music workstation and a microphone, the results would be like Illmatic compared to Trap Back 2. I actually had to sit through what some of the more deranged members of the masochistic community might call a "listening experience." Much like a veteran of Vietnam, I'm here to report the horrors of war. Emphasis on horrors. I'm actually not entirely certain if Gucci Mane is aware of the level of awfulness he has unleashed upon this universe, because if he was I'd be the first to support his trial for violating the Geneva convention. Material this terrible is a crime against humanity. I've had a bit of apathy watching the news, as no national tragedy could compare to this piece of drivel.
The production on this album is uncreative, insipid and dull. It's almost as if the producers discovered a command in the digital workstation labeled: "Make the most simplisticly uninteresting beat imaginable." and decided to just press it seventeen times. In that case, I would applaud the programmers behind this piece of software. You've accomplished your goal. If I ever find a reason to create beats that sound thinner and weaker than most Ethiopian children in the future, I will definitely consider whatever programs Gucci and his crew used to make these tracks. If I recorded a running washing machine, it would have more complex and interesting percussion structures than the beats on this mixtape. It would be insane to imply that a song on Trap Back 2 wouldn't already be ruined by the laughably bad delivery and and lyrics, but these beats just reveal that anybody who feels they can bump their heads to them possibly needs to be committed.
Vito Corleone. Bane. Shy Ronnie. Eli Porter. The adults from Charlie Brown. What do all of these individuals have in common? If you put them all on a rap album, their diction and delivery would still be light years ahead of Gucci Mane. I've never heard more incoherent rambling and mumbling from somebody who seems to possibly be at least functional. If anybody reading this has any personal connections to Gucci Mane, has he ever mentioned being legally deaf? It would explain his flow and ear for beats. I'm feeling a bit sorry for Gucci at this point, I theorize he might have possibly taken a whole bottle of sleeping pills before creating this mixtape. At least it would be a rational excuse for the incessant slurring.
The lyrics on Trap Back 2 are stunning. It's just a perfect magnum opus of absolute idiocy. Many have tried to give me the argument that Gucci Mane knows what he's writing is complete drivel front and backwards, but he's not like Waka Flocka Flame. There's no sense of fun or enjoyment. Gucci acts like what he's putting out is a favor, but with lines like "diss Flocka Flame you diss the ***ing wrong person/run up on Gucci Mane you be another dead person." "Go get your dad you trick/go suck your daddy's dick." "Looking for some good *** to smoke on/she's so fine I need a bad bitch to poke on." It's clear that Gucci is trying to make an example of what not to do in a mixtape, or perhaps this is a postmodern dissection of modern rap music. Or perhaps, if we use Occam's Razor, the simplest explanation is usually the correct one. And that means that Gucci is just this stupid.
In an anti-smoking ad, they have many examples of rotting lungs. With the release of this mixtape, those who argue the inferiority of rap music (myself certainly not included), need to look no further than Trap Back 2. The haters have found their decaying organ.