So half a year after his second platinum spree, The Inspiration, Young Jeezy has new stuff on the road and presents the United Streets Dopeboyz of America. Notably the Slick Pulla from Atlanta, Georgia and Bloodraw from Florida. Both with a similar it-is-so-exaggerated-cool emphasis as the 29-year-old boss, but just different styles and voices. While Young Jeezy on the third album with the same rap style might be too monotonous for some and Bloodraw on full length might be a bit exhausting, the three of them make it together, the Go Getta music that has shaped the last 2 years to warm up again pleasantly. 14 tracks, almost without features (Jadakiss, R. Kelly and Bun B help on the Go Getta remix, with Roccett and 211 from California are Jeezy’s latest signings here) and without much innovation. In the middle part it gets a little bit more R’n’B-calmer, all in all it’s just blown into the horn like there’s no tomorrow. An unrestrained ego boost over 14 tracks, the white girl is already a good metaphor.
In fact, the good Atlanta Trap music, which this year with TI’s album is yet to experience another climax, seemingly a lot of the evil Yayo: the Swagger (read: bragging), the energy and the consequences, perhaps. All without the dangerous side effects, such as a permanently softened brain, cardiac arrest and bleeding nasal walls. That’s how drugs can be fun. Cold Summer follows all the genre and Jeezy concepts, the coke word games, dealer / strip club / mach-money themes and the beat anthems. His latest work, The Inspiration, was able to live up to the commercial platinum expectations, but continued quite unspectacular where the classic Let’s Get It: Thug Motivation 101 stopped. That’s exactly what he is doing with USDA. In the end, however, something even better could have come out than on the last solo prank, which was one of the most successful releases of the year 06 after all. Na’s fans will be hard to convert, but the trapper is happy. Young Jeezy himself compares the result with “Trap or Die on steroids”, ie with his successful Breakthrough Mixtape on steroids. Pure street music, albeit in clean high-tech beat-agility.
Lyric Cold Summer
I said I’m corporate thuggin’, see T E Until the day I die that’s the way it’s gon’ be Thug Motivation I’m bumpin’ number 3 Blowin’ on some killa shit that I got from Zone 3
Blowin’ Orange Mile, yeah, we call it Tennessee I’m good in every hood everybody know me So don’t wake me up, I swear to God I’m dreamin’ Pray fo Uncle Ray, yeah, dat nigga still beamin’
Lookin’ fly in the cock pit a nigga still leanin’ Money out here so a nigga still schemin’ And I don’t make music fo da muthafuckin’ critics They don’t understand ’cause they ain’t muthafuckin’ littin’
And I ain’t trippin’ on the source I got a muthafuckin’ plug Keep me 5 mics, I’m still a muthafuckin’ thug Now the question is, can a nigga really rap? And the answer is you eva been to da trap?
Bitch, I make hits, you niggas waste time And I be goddamn, if I let you waste mine Like change for the better but I’m still strapped Trigga happy nigga don’t make me relapse
Attitude like fuck it, they hatin’ anyway And I can give a fuck what a nigga gotta say You still talkin’ blow? You goddamn right What else I’m gon’ say? That’s my mu-fuckin’ life
I just left Jamaica, I’m talkin’ Nachos Rios Sippin’ margaritas on the beach in my Adidas Brought a few pills but that’s’ only fo da skeezas Used my black car but that’s only fo da reefa What’s up? Let’s go
Not a day goes by, that I ain’t high Hit da mall everyday, nigga, I stay fly 26 inches, yeah, I’m sittin’ up high And I’ma keep it hood, homie, dat’s no lie
Not day goes by, that I ain’t high Hit da mall everyday, nigga, I stay fly Get how we live, yo, we tryin’ to get by We throw it all in the air, baby, dats no lie
Blood raw, errbody love it blowing on Jamaica The boy corporate thuggin’ Glasses in the air, errbody toastin’ Don’t get it fucked up, nigga, errbody toting
Posted with a broad, yeah she blacker then a African Hair down her back like she mixed with Italian Mami so thick man she look like a stallion Introduced her to my partner yeah, it’s on so what’s happenin’?
What’s happening? Dead Presidents, briefcase full of ’em Couldn’t take a chance we do it for the love of ’em Living life fast, we do it for the rush of it Rubber band stacks, we do it for the touch of it
This shit don’t stop, corporate thuggin’ nigga til my casket drop Yams in the booth did the same on the block Don’t blame me, I’m just tryna get a knot, U.S.D.A.
Not a day goes by, that I ain’t high Hit da mall everyday, nigga, I stay fly 26 inches, yeah, I’m sittin’ up high And I’ma keep it hood, homie, dat’s no lie
Not day goes by, that I ain’t high Hit da mall everyday, nigga, I stay fly Get how we live, yo, we tryin’ to get by We throw it all in the air, baby, dats no lie, what’s up?
So fly, so high So fly, so high So fly, so high So fly, so high