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Curren$y’s ambition is in his consistency, the notion that you can deliver a product that satisfies your core fans each time out. Curren$y’s never been particularly ambitious in terms of the scope of his music: He’ll never attempt to make a record as overtly sprawling as Kendrick’s To Pimp a Butterfly or as nakedly commercial as your average Drake album. There is certainly some truth to those assertions, but they also slightly miss the point. He doesn’t necessarily need the critical credibility that might bring and so Curren$y has always seemed content to be hip-hop comfort food.Īs a lyricist, Spitta has never been a particularly gifted technician-his flows often trail off and sometimes end arbitrarily mid-bar-and some might confuse his dogged adherence to his own musical formula as proof that he's a limited and unambitious artist.

“Fight night, MGM, vaporizer blazing/Valet for the classics, trucks with armored glasses/Franchise players on a momentous occasion,” he raps on the Jadakiss-assisted “Pot Jar.” He’d rather expertly narrate the experience of being ringside for a Vegas boxing match than threaten you with a gun or idly ponder universal existentialism. Why sulk when your life is built on roof top pool parties and marble floor hallways ? “Don't apologize though, I ain't worried bout it/Knew I was iller than those niggas the whole time,” Curren $y barks triumphantly on “Life I Chose,” the ninth track on his euphoric, ennui-free new album, Pilot Talk 3.Ĭurren$y’s songwriting has always been defiantly low stakes, reveling in familiar themes of wine, women, weed, and the occasional dalliance with mid-grade drug dealing as his primary obsessions. Instead, he’s a rapper unafraid to simply celebrate his blessed existence. The New Orleans MC doesn’t bother to ponder if the size of his bank account will prevent true emotional connection or if fame traps the soul. Thus, to hear a rapper simply appreciate being rich again can be revelatory for fans who are little tired of all the 808s and heartbreak.Ĭurren$y doesn’t lament a life of extravagance in his music. The terminal bleakness of the good life might be millennial rap’s signifying spirit, but it can be a little exhausting if you prefer your rap music to be about enjoying the spoils of fame. A quick glance at the roster of today’s biggest rap stars and you’ll find artist after artist engulfed in the cosmic misery of achieving an empty life of status, strippers, and the inability to cop a latte at Starbucks without being recognized. There is something invigorating about hearing a rapper who seems to enjoy fame.