Review Summary: In Honor of His Indictment, Ladies and Gentlemen, I Present To You, Lil Boosie: Bad Azz.
Chances are, you’ve been to a graduation party or a birthday party where brightly-colored, helium filled celebratory balloons were scattered about. As you got older (or maybe you didn’t need to age at all), at least once, you probably took a couple hits of helium and spent a solid hour recording and listening to yourself say obnoxious things, only to realize about two or three hours later that it really wasn’t
that funny. The momentary joy you found in shallow-rooted humor wisped away into a more disheartening and sobering afterthought. What does this have to do with Lil Boosie’s album
Bad Azz? A lot more than you think.
Let’s assume for a moment that you’ve never had the pleasure (or lack thereof) of listening to Lil Boosie before. Maybe you’d heard either of his “hits,” “Wipe Me Down” or “Zoom” on the radio, but probably hadn’t thought anything of it (or even commit any of it to memory). So while searching through the Best Buy bargain bin and finding
Bad Azz in its entirety for $2.99, it probably seemed like a pretty good deal. Slide into the driver’s seat of your car, pop in the album and the first thing to meet your ears is far from the bargain bliss you expected. Instead, you’re treated to his nasally, whiney voices on the introduction to “When You Gonna Drop.” “Okay,” you say to yourself. “It’s just his conversational voice, surely his rapping can’t be THAT bad.” Again, you’re wrong, as later in the very same song, the same high-pitched drone raps over the glitzy, electronic beat, “My phone won’t let me sleep at night/My razor phone is prepaid/Them Nextels is like AIDS.”
What?
Aside from being a staunch advocate for Motorola, Boosie, like many of his comrades, is quite outspoken about his marijuana and drug usage, which is chronicled in his album closer and homage to Mary Jane, “Smokin’ On Purple.” Few words can express how comically terrible this song is. Often times, a rapper will strive for a rhyme that is so “out there” it results in a snicker of pity, whereas Boosie’s antics on “Purple” result in a full-blown eruption of laughter (and also pity). Chances are, you'll lose it Somewhere between his squealy “yeeeeeaaaaah” in each chorus and his references to his numerous (I believe the number is six) children. His complete lack of flow and sense of rhythym is exploited further by Webbie, who, while still a relatively talentless featured artist at least has decent flow--but then again, I’d be willing to bet just about everyone has “decent” flow if they’re rapping in the same song as Lil’ Boosie.
And finally, no entry-level rap album would be complete without an abysmal slow-jam aimed towards a nameless “love” (or set of boobs/genetalia). This comes to fruition on
Bad Azz on the song “Distant Lover,” brilliantly displaying Lil’ Boosie’s soft side with the opening lyrics, “Wish I could *** her every day/touch her in every way,” and continues into the first verse with the nonsensical lyrics, “You’ve got me turning into Mr. Telephone Man.” Again:
What? Ultimately, not only are the lyrics atrocious, the beat is far too soft and crooning compared to Lil Boosie’s fast, high pitched and coarse voice, making it very hard to believe he’s even trying to be sensual.
None of this is to say that the three aforementioned songs are the worst on the album--they’re just the most memorable, in the worst ways possible. Songs like “*** You” show Boosie’s expansive vocabulary, while still utilizing the same over-produced and over done beats and the same, nagging voice. In fact, really every song is as bad, or worse than the last. With poor rhymes, worse beats and the
worst voice,
Bad Azz places a lot more emphasis on
Bad than on anything else.
