Rich Boy f/ Chili Chil: "Top of the World"

In what appears to be a hyper-competitive battle for immodesty, Polow Da Don punctuates two cartoonishly ferocious Rich Boy verses by, um, yelling a lot of unnecessary shit. This is apparently Polow’s new schtick: taking a minute or two out of every sonorous beat he produces to shout out Keri Hilson and bill Rich Boy’s new album as the hardest shit since pavement. It would feel unearned did it not feel so inevitable that Rich Boy’s sophomore effort will indeed scorch earth and move asses, the Alabama MC having jumped in a phone booth at some point and emerged a snarling personification of the specifically Southern swag honed by Jeezy and Tip through the decade.

Learning how to rap helps a great deal as well. Sure, it’s willfully dumb, literally (“Drank so much syrup that I need to be examinated“), but all is forgiven in the context of surprisingly complex rhyme schemes, a relentless, liquid growl, and the shit-talk that falls at the doorstep of the awesome ego of Wayne and ’09 Kanye. Like those two self-infatuated behemoths, his persona is derived from equal parts “fuck you” disenfranchisement and “fuck you” arrogance, manifesting itself in a hailstorm of dope punchlines, all “Told the Lord to carry me / Born in Alabama, so that’s just where they gon’ bury me / Women see the diamonds on my neck and get infatuated / Niggas try to cop from me, but bitch: I can’t be recreated.” And any lingering doubts that Rich Boy can carry a project are quelled—nay, extinguished—by Polow Da Don riding shotgun.