Drake’s top lines would later improve and his coalescing flow is still in thrall to Wayne’s at this point, but the tradeoff across So Far Gone is energy like a puppy skidding on to a kitchen floor: tracks like Successful and Say What’s Real are still riveting for their audible hunger. He justifies elbowing on to the top table, stretching out across the disco track with breezy banter before passing the mic to Lil Wayne for an equally enjoyable longform verse. It’s a measure of Drake’s supreme confidence that this track from his breakthrough mixtape So Far Gone uses a Jay-Z beat that features a sample the Notorious BIG made famous. But the bridge is stronger, then Drake jumps off the end with the biggest punchline moment in his catalogue.Ī younger Drake performing in Austin, Texas, in 2009. Songs live and die on the strength of said melodies, and the one in God’s Plan’s verses is a little dreary. In the past decade, rap has streamlined – and in the worst cases, devolved – its songwriting to deliver lyrics in a single melody line over and over again. With a beat that offers a nice tropical twist on Hotline Bling, this isn’t Drake’s finest lyrical hour – ah, how relatable the tribulations of having to deal with insincere people when you’re famous! But the chorus is karaoke-strong, Drake singing forcefully in his higher register, as if doing an impromptu performance on a banquette in a busy club. Hopefully, the new album Certified Lover Boy will expand on this. Demons (feat Fivio Foreign and Sosa Geek) (2020)įor someone who attaches himself – some have said parasitically – to all sorts of global music styles, Drake has done relatively little drill, though this track from the water-treading Dark Lane Demo Tapes suggests he’s well-suited to its bass lurch and asymmetric cymbals. But he closes the album with a beautifully jazzy take on a particular Drake mode: executive slam poetry, as if delivered conversationally to businessmen around the Nespresso machine in a first-class airport lounge. The collaborative album with Future, What a Time to Be Alive, is overrated, Drake wanting to tick off an Atlanta trap project but struggling to write hooks that find purchase in the cold snares (the club-igniting Jumpman is dumb, boring and rips off Gucci Mane, do not me). But his cockiness connects, and the chorus hook is memorably strong. It’s a rather corny boast and gets cornier still – punchlines like “at the club you know I balled: chemo” could be included in Christmas crackers, were they not deeply insensitive.
Forever (feat Kanye West, Lil Wayne and Eminem) (2009)īorne aloft on a blaze of horns and flanked by three all-time greats, this was Drake’s entry to rap’s big leagues: “Last name ever / first name greatest”, is how he opens his verse.
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