West Coast compatriot, The Game, is the latest to join the long line of rappers who’ve famously announced their retirements prematurely. He has said his Born 2 Rap album will be his last. If he truly wants to end on a high note, I don’t think it gets much higher than this.
With a good number of bangers, nostalgia, and authentic accounts, you get a lot of mileage out of this record. Like most albums these days, it’s sample-heavy, (even the samples are sampled), but there’s also some standout original production.
Substantively, Game has always seemed to me like he never graduated from Baby Loc status. It’s noticeable how much he name-drops like he’s leaning on the reputations of big homies for clout, or worse, is just a gossip. Whether he means to pay homage or to exploit his proximity to rap legends, Born 2 Rap could alternately be titled Granny’s Family Bible for all the names archived in it.
Don’t misunderstand. What The Game has done for the West Coast cannot be diminished.
In the Song, No Smoke, he reminds us that he’s the one who gave early exposure to Kendrick and Nip. Game comes out hard on the track touting his pivotal role in those transitional years when the West floundered and hardcore rap gave way to commercial R&B crossovers: “[I] bridge the gap between mumble rap and these killas/Bridge the gap between smokers and lean sippers.”
The Game brings a casual confidence to the song that goes well with the hook, “They don’t want no smoke with me” sung by Miguel. The song’s live concert-level energy and dramatic drum rolls had me wondering if Miguel brings his own production to every feature. Hands down my favorite song of the album.
Continuing the vibe, Five Hundred Dollar Candles is a whole mood. The smooth and meditative thug lullaby is carried by a deep, rumbling bass and simple rim shot that float on a sea of rich, blended chords and vocal ad-libs. Game does what he does best on this track with his self-reflective commentary and simple phrasing. Dom Kennedy contributes a similarly simple hook, “I burn $500 candles,” which I presume is a metaphor for firing a burner. Same with Gold Daytonas. I like the contrast between Game’s gruff and Dom’s bright, nasally timbre. I wish I had a better way to describe that vocal quality unique to California (mostly Bay Area) rappers, but I’m always amused hearing real, loyal-to-the-soil-ass-niggas deliver game with this higher-pitched, yet somehow, no less grimy, tone.
From jump, the song Welcome Home feat. Nipsey, feels like the chase scene in a 70’s action flick. Both rappers pull no punches on this track and Game’s dig at Kanye after the first hook is priceless. “Fire to the spoon put you on the moon/Make America Great Again? You a fuckin’ coon/And you niggas wonder why I’m unenthused?/’Cause hard bottoms trump runnin’ shoes.”
Nip is his usual prophetic self. He’s like the winningest coach of an underdog team or the respected general of an outflanked brigade: a realist, but still an optimist. I like his line, “We’re as charismatic on these corners like 2 Pac on a stage, but fuck a dream if it ain’t gon’ pay.”
I Didn’t Want to Write ThisSong is the album’s official Nispey tribute feat. Marsha Ambrosius. The song opens with the guitar riffs from Ari Lennox’s popular Whipped Cream. I thought it was a touching and sincere shoutout to Nipsey’s character and accomplishment; whereas some of the other remembrances on the album felt opportunistic and self-serving. If I didn’t know better (and I don’t), I’d suspect Nip’s cadence and counsel were simulated on Game’s verse in Blood Thicker Than Water, and maybe even on the first verse on One Life. This song has a smooth saxophone with a nice verse from J. Stone and an outro excerpt from Nina Simone.
40 Ounce Love feat. Just Liv makes both my ‘workout’ and ‘cruising’ playlists. The whole song is like the peak crescendo of a religious devotional with a singing sample wailing over Game’s lyrics. I like the setup in the second verse where his repetition lulls you into a sense of security, then he turns the tables on a person who has taken him for granted:
You outta gas? I’ll fill it up for you
You surrounded in the club? We pullin’ up for you
You went to jail? I took that money, put it up for you
You still got your hand out like I ain’t did enough for you
You put on that snitch jacket and it stuck to you
On my life, I love you but I can’t fuck with you
The Game
It’s a lot to love on this album and a lot of celebrity mentions to pick apart, a tip of the snapback to Game’s embeddedness in the culture. I couldn’t wait to hear Mozzy’s feature on Carmen Electra and this dude never disappoints with his multiple alliterations. I clutched my fake pearls, however, when 21 Savage had the audacity to fix his lips to reference Mozzy in his verse on The Code. British boy:
No one was left out when Game activated the Bat Signal on The Light calling, by name, spitters like Sean, Cole, and Kendrick to pick up the torch after he himself signs off. While I admire the call to arms and images of disciplined soldiers he invokes with the heavy snare, Game’s audacity to challenge rappers with more versatility and substance than him right after declaring he’s leaving the game feels like a sucka ass move. The Game definitely has a niche, but his attempts at narrative storytelling, like when he tries to emulate Nas on Rewind II, fall flat. The song Westside is more his speed. Rather than trying to create suspense, plot, and payoff, he strings together phrases and images that paint a picture.
I never did understand the significance of the ‘controversial’ album cover art. Several pregnant women with exposed bellies surrounding him in his studio room seems too literal to even be called art. The title track Born 2 Rap was pretty unremarkable to me too, although I will credit him for doing this track solo.
To end on a good note, the song Stainless feat. Anderson Paak is a nice take on 2 Pac’s Picture Me Rolling and thanks to Game we now know definitively who killed him.
I imagine Game announcing his retirement is equivalent to standing backstage waiting for fans to chant encore. Being the first attempt with expressed aspirations of still working with Jay-Z, I’m sure he’ll be back. But if I had to wrap up his legacy right now, I’d say The Game is like a Ted Kennedy. Despite capitalizing off his play-cousin nepotism, he keeps the memories alive, bridging not only generations, but the East and West divide; Game kept the family together after the staggering loss of its most prolific leader.
