E-40 comes through with a guest verse and product placement for his branded wine, the Earl Stevens Mangoscato, on “Thug Nigga Story,” suggesting another reference point for YoungBoy’s wordy and unpredictable flows.Įven when YoungBoy is working with vintage sounds, he still exists on his own terms, arriving with brash defiance. On “Won’t Step on Me,” YoungBoy effortlessly pivots between a sing-song chorus and relentless verses he lets his Southern twang hang out, contorting “Baton Rouge” to rhyme with “would.” The unrestrained intensity feels first-take and off-the-dome, his flow almost taunting the beat, never respecting its confines or rhythms, words spilling outside the margins. The pain and passion intertwine, with the paranoia of a life constantly lived on edge filtering into every moment.Įmotion dictates his delivery above all else, but YoungBoy’s raps never feel quite like pure freestyle either, with lyrics and phrases infused with melody for emphasis. YoungBoy is a toxic crooner with a fondness for heartbroken ballads-there’s guitar all over albums like August’s The Last Slimeto, but 3800 Degrees strips away the soulful side to emphasize the menace. Every bar twists and swerves, his voice at once a high-pitched whine and a deep rumble.
He’s not always fast or especially clever in his wordplay, but YoungBoy’s bars are frequently dense, delivered with an almost demonic energy he crams his words into spaces where other rappers might need a breath. On “Choppa on My Shoulda,” YoungBoy offers himself as the literal reincarnation of Louisiana rap’s golden age: “So cutthroat, you would think that they brought Slim back from Magnolia.” YoungBoy wears his regional roots with pride on the bounce production “Ampd Up,” which recruits fellow Baton Rouge native Mouse on tha Track and includes a salsa-style montuno piano. The production is a not-quite-retro but still classic affair, draped in the kind of clean basslines and MIDI piano you might hear on a No Limit release.ĭespite his willingness to buck convention, YoungBoy is almost like a Voltron assembled from the legends of Louisiana rap: There’s the alien wavelengths of Lil Wayne, the erratic intensity of Silkk the Shocker and Mystikal, and the bluesy passion of Boosie and Kevin Gates. The throwbacks go deeper than just the visuals, though YoungBoy’s remix of C-Murder’s “Like a Jungle” presaged the nostalgia of 3800 Degrees. If you didn’t know YoungBoy had signed to Cash Money, you could probably guess based on the Juvenile-inspired cover art-an early signal that this album seeks to place YoungBoy in a particular historical lineage. With its compact style and classic sound, it is more critic-friendly and more appealing to old head haters. At 33 minutes, 3800 Degrees is more concise than many of YoungBoy’s frequently meandering albums. Back then, Thug’s frequently overwhelming flood of releases and leaks distilled into a more thoughtful and cohesive product.
Though stylistically very different, in spirit, 3800 Degrees is similar to the turn Young Thug took around the time of the release of his debut commercial mixtape Barter 6. But on 3800 Degrees, his fourth full-length solo album of 2022, YoungBoy stakes his claim as an artist whose impact transcends the world of the internet.
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