SOUNDS LIKE: Pretty much every other Young Dro mixtape which, if you've been following them, is not a bad thing.
FUN FACT: One of Young Dro's best friends growing up was Chris "Daddy Mack" Smith (the light-skinned one) from Kris Kross.
WHY COMPLEX IS CO-SIGNING IT: Before he went away, the Rap Rambo b.k.a. T.I. made a trunk load of contingency plans (Paper Trail re-release, The Takers set to hit theaters) to ensure that his label still stacks paper while he serves a yearlong bid for weapons possession. Makes sense, seeing as Tip is Grand Hustle's primary bread winner, but that doesn't mean everyone else on the label can't hold their own. While the boss is away, Young Dro is letting people know Grand Hustle still ain't nothing to fuck with—and there's no better evidence than the fact that Dro is still signed to them. After dropping his slightly lackluster Black Boy, White Boy tape with label mate Yung LA earlier this year, Dro returns to form with his DJ Don Cannon-assisted mixtape to get fans ready for his upcoming sophomore project P.O.L.O. (Players Only Live Once), and to prove that like Akon and Curtis, he can still kill.
One thing you'll instantly pick up on while listening to Dro is that despite all the hardships he's faced, this guy genuinely enjoys living life. He doesn't have time to be despondent, not when he's got diamonds on his neck that are "greener than a Heineken," as he says on the one of the most boastful, and best-produced, tracks on the tape, "I'm Fresh." Fans of Dro already know what he's into: Polo Ralph Lauren clothing, endless amounts of hydro, rolling on E, and the thickest chicks ATL has to offer. All of which is covered thoroughly throughout R.I.P, which is split between original production and some of the most popular beats from the past year or two. Young Dro showcases his unmatchable and seemingly indefatigable flow throughout, most notably on his take of Jay-Z's "D.O.A.," on which his Southern twang and fluid flow does justice to the No ID production. It's that flow that makes Dro so damn listenable; he could spit the wackest lyrics and make it sound halfway decent. He could even make up words like he does on the T.I.-featured "Mo Money Mo Problems," when Dro rhymes: "Tell 'em that I'm hungry, with pistols in my dungarees, try me and get made, mafia comglomery." Comglomery? We don't even care what it means.
Unlike on Black Boy, White Boy, Dro takes a break from the good life on R.I.P to get introspective with it. Tracks like "U Don't Know About It" offer tales of the unglamorous parts of his life: "I know I'ma die 'cause I be ridin' with the reaper." It really comes to a head on the introspective "Can't Kwik," on which Dro details his past to show just how far he's come. Dro's got a lot to say, we just wish he did it more concisely. Although it moves pretty quickly, R.I.P clocks in at a robust 29 tracks. We could have done without a couple of the skits and a couple songs that seem repetitive when listened all the way through. But those are all small complaints. Dro set out to make a tape where he killed on every track, and for the most part he succeeded.
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