If that isn’t bad enough, what follows is the worst song of this dude’s career. “Mexico” confirms that Gibbs has become too concerned with being a “rapper” and less concerned with being Freddie Gibbs. He does just enough for the album to be tolerable.įor example, he has a song titled “Narcos,” where the most gruesome line is “Chillin’ in my grandma basement / Probably dreamin’ ‘bout some cocaine.” On “Mexico” he recruits Tory Lanez (aka the “Great Value” Ty Dolla $ign) to yell “My whip color look like Rihanna / And all my bitches like designer.” Gibbs doesn’t get on much better, with three verses about nothing, not even selling drugs. There’s no jarring street-journalism, no smooth MadLib-curated soul sample, no left turns - nothing. There are still flash-in-the-pan moments when he seems to get it right, but they’re few and far between. It’s as if he fleshed out all the elements that made his music unique and special, leaving only tidbits of an album he couldn’t seem to make. Straight from the jump, Shadow feels uncharacteristically generic. Albums understandably come with higher standards, and Shadow of a Doubt falls painfully short of what was supposed to be his breakout project. He underpromised and overdelivered with all of his album-quality mixtapes, and matched the higher expectations when it counted most: album time. Up until now, Gibbs has had a flawless track record.
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