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Drive the Madness

I think I can understand why the mixtape is something of a dilemma for the reviewer. The mixes are muddy, vocals are often incomprehensible. On the other hand, the marvelous unpredictability of the tracks is what makes it genius. It’s Sosa’s danger and his solution. His voice is slow and whacked out. The odd mumbling lurches into auto-tuned falsettos that are grounded by beats, TV samples, and intense special effects. It makes me feel fucked up and hilarious. The overblown bass makes me want to punch my fist into the air and scream bitch. The mixtape came out two years ago and they gave it two stars. Reddit hates it. I exhale more smoke. Laugh.

 

I’m in California and it’s been a decade since Almighty So came out. I still like Sosa in the car. I feel real tough when my hands beat up a steering wheel with the wind shooting through my hair. I laugh in time to the witchy laugh track in “Woulda Coulda”. I stop at a red light and hear my applause as I finish reading a reddit thread from when the mixtape was released in 2013. It’s satisfying to see user gayboicarti do a takesies-backsies of his original hate. So many suckers are presently clicking behind keyboards to absolve their misjudgements. I know it’s because they all hear the same thing. The “thank yous”. Carti says thank you. Lil Uzi says thank you. Yeat says thank you. Lucki says thank you. Lil Yachty says thank you. Now all the soundcloud rappers say it in unison, with your chest, after the gunshot sample, Thank you Sosa for letting me sleep in your bed. Good. Now all I am waiting to hear is the promised Almighty So 2 album. It’s supposed to come out today but I’m not holding my breath. It's been delayed too many times since its first announcement in 2019.

 

I have a big imagination, but I have no idea why Chief Keef has put over a decade of space between Almighty So and Almighty So 2. I listened to Almighty So all of last week with the loose hope that its successor would be released last Friday. It filled me with the conviction that Chief Keef is a great artist. The album earned him pioneer status. Change isn’t evil. Laughter is contagious. I bite at the inside of my cheeks and sigh against my parked car, reading the new release date of May 10th, 2024. If he follows through, I know how my first time looks.

(DREAM SCENARIO): MAY 10, 2024

 

I clench my jaw and shift my hijacked car into sports mode. I’m speeding down the Pacific Coast Highway pretending I’m some big-shot in GTA V. It’s 7 pm and the red dot sinks towards tomorrow. I’m in for a Miami bruise sunset, and if I close my eyes it smells like home too. Salty. I hug the coastline as I click on the album. A young Sosa smiles up at me from a picture frame. It looks like Lil Wayne’s album art. Sosa loves Wayne. I smirk. I love them. I press play, turn the volume up, and flatten the pedal. The bass pulses into my tanned ass and I have this fucked up smile on my face because I’m imagining all the ways I can explode my vehicle. It’s banging, it’s out of control. I punch out into the violet. The rich people stand on their balconies and stare through binoculars at my tail. They whisper curses under their breath because they want to feel this free too.

I clench my jaw and shift my hijacked car into sports mode. I’m speeding down the Pacific Coast Highway pretending I’m some big-shot in GTA V. It’s 7 pm and the red dot sinks towards tomorrow. I’m in for a Miami bruise sunset, and if I close my eyes it smells like home too. Salty.

RE: REALITY: MAY 11TH 2024

 

I’m now gunning it down the Pacific Coast Highway and there is no baby Sosa grinning up at me. Nonetheless, Almighty So 2 is out and I can believe in it. Chief Keef’s release made my heart, head and hat spring for the ceiling. I may not physically be in my car, but I’m living a lifestyle. I am swimming upstream in a sea of bodies beneath hundreds of Tokyo’s ultraviolet escort signs with my headphones in. The countless snare rolls and the bizarrely amusing lyrics puts that twisted evil grin on my face. It’s charmingly Sosa. I feel fueled up and hot, listening to him rap in “Treat Myself” about wearing yellow diamonds, looking like he peed himself and how he’s gotta treat himself. I slow down in front of one of the glittering escort signs. Should I treat myself and rent a boyfriend after I finish my second round of listening to huge beats and underwear filling bass? Why not?  Sosa produced the album in its entirety, and he pays homage to many genres, evoking the ghost of Carl Orff in intro track “Almighty”, then crashing into tracks that source the seventies, soul, and underground drill. It’s a culmination and development of all his previous work — a solid delivery with sharp mixing that cuts through the thickness of mundanity. I pump my arms, hitting a sprint. I skid up the hyper clean sidewalks, redlining in wonder past endless businesses marketed in the most adorable way possible. I could pitstop into any of these places and enter a new story. Suits karaoking, bustling izakayas serving horse meat, chef’s murdering live shrimp with vodka at your table, and bartenders singing kanpai as we take a shot of snake liquor together that scorches down my esophagus. I want to see, hear, taste, and feel it all. Sosa’s jabbing cadence thrills me and the timing couldn’t be better. Its organized madness matches this city and my mind. Spring’s sprung, and Sosa gifted us all with a phantom whip. Come on — it’s summer. 

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