JR Writer - History In The Making
If J.R. Writer and his camp were steady pushing back History In The Making's release date in an attempt to build up more anticipation for the LP, somebody should've told them it wasn't necessary.
If J.R. Writer and his camp were steady pushing back History In The Making's release date in an attempt to build up more anticipation for the LP, somebody should've told them it wasn't necessary. The 20-year old mixtape phenom's project has been among Hip Hop's most wanted since the release of Writer's Block 1 in 2004. On that merit alone, he was able to secure a million dollar deal with Asylum earlier this year for his second album. The question is, now that it's all spit, tracked-out, shrink-wrapped, and out of Cam's "not-even-the-press-can-get-an-advance-listen" mighty grip, does he deliver?
First things first: folks have been wondering whether the Dominican Don would be able to churn out a bonafide LP and shake-off the title that has him pegged as little more than the "Stop-N-Go" battle-rapping, prince of punch lines. Well, you can dead your worries about that--truth be told, on the extremely lengthy 19-track LP, the sick punch lines we've become accustomed to hearing from Ryder, as he's affectionately called, are few and far between. Though you'll be glad that he didn't simply rest on the same recipe that makes his mixtapes so ill, and took time to recognize the difference between a solid mixtape and a solid album, one can't help but to feel like there's something uniquely JR missing.
There are gems to be found. The most fertile breeding grounds for that signature Writer wordplay are on "Stomp" and the Dame Grease-produced track, featuring two verses of straight fire, "Zoolander." Spitting bars like; "Your wife countin my cake, her nice mouth on my snake/Watch surrounded by flakes, boy and these rocks are annoyin/I can't keep 'em outta my face, uhh/Who's as icy as me, shit I icicle T's/It's nothing for the stunt and turn your wife to a ski/My chain hang and man she delighted to see/A hundred karats, faggot wrist full of vitamin D." And on the former, "Yo; I'm a menace clown listen now, I grip the pound and get it down/You'll be a missin kitten and sniffin the scent of hound/That leaves the ditch to found, captain is capped, blap blap/Fuck if you new in town, you'll still get around/I keep the addicts in attics while I traffic the order/I done packaged the package then got it back through the border." All the while it's appropriately peppered with the sampled Diddy line "...slow down son, you're killin 'em..."