An Open Letter to Lil Wayne
Dear Weezy,
We have to talk. Do you have a minute? I know the studio is like a drug for you, but come sit down for a moment. Where do we start?
Something has to change. And by something, I mean everything. You’re just now under the line of coastin’ through your career and music in 2015. This is Eminem status. You know you’re going to sell well for the rest of your musical life. I mean, Rebirth, a Rock album, went Gold after being leaked two months early. The quality is just not there anymore.
I’m on my last leg of hope. Most gave up a while ago, but I hold this shred of hope because you give me it. For every unmemorable song or verse, there’s that one where you spazz and remind people that you still got it like a returning wrestler. I get tricked every time, and I hate it. Why do you constantly do this? Even more so, why do I continue to give you chances instead of letting you fade into oblivion like Fred The Godson?
Free Weezy Album was supposed to be the redemption. Fans doubt you, Birdman doubted you, and most importantly you’re unconsciously doubting yourself. When I first heard “Glory,” I thought about how much this seemingly resembled the old Wayne. Before you stop me and quote Jay Z’s infamous “buy my old albums” line, please don’t. Once I listened more closely and absorbed each line, it was clear that the production was fire, your flow was crazy, but the bars were mediocre.
Being that person to trash the efforts on FWA isn’t my aim. Like I mentioned earlier, for every good song or verse, there’s more bad to combat it. “My Heart Races On” was a shade of ’07 Wayne. When you said, “Got no degree but where I’m from that’s the original climate/ where you can’t tell a fiend that a crack rock isn’t a diamond,” I thought this is something special in a sea of lost potential that makes up FWA. You rapped about doing everything and being everywhere except heaven. This is what I wanted. Something with substance. You also effectively put Jake Troth on my radar, so thank you.
Or in the last part of “London Roads” where you reflected on shooting yourself in the chest at 15. It was reflective and also emotional hearing you pay respects to that officer who recently passed away.
Is it so hard to deliver records that show you’re a human and not a pussy-eating, bugatti-driving superhero?
I don’t think it’s time to retire, but it’s also time for that change we mentioned. Here’s my proposal. Get off Cash Money quietly, come up with a strategy that doesn’t just include rolling out your next album but also focusing on Young Money’s artists, and give us a new album in a year and a half. Cut the guest features. Just disappear off the radar. Go live life. Travel the world. Pick up the pen and write again and ensure we never suffer through another “I’m That Nigga” again. Don’t take time off from making music, but create less and spend more time on each song.
If FWA taught me anything, it’s that you still have traces of who you used to be. It’s faint like walking down the block and still hoping to be connected to your wifi. Make that connection stronger.
Tha Carter V should have meaning. Keep the Mannie Fresh records, because I’ve heard they’re actually good (unless Fresh is exaggerating, which he did a lot in his raps). The rest of the album should sound like you have something to rap about. We want to hear about your upbringing, the relationship with your mom, having kids, love, and other components that make up your life. I’m aware you’ve done some of those subjects before, but there’s always new angles. Eating pussy is only going to have so many variations.
Think about it. I’m not going to rip your posters off the wall, or tape record myself driving off a bridge with my future girlfriend if you don’t respond. I’m just being hard on you, because I hate to see you squander your abilities. Until next time…
Sincerely,
Sermon, a fan since Lights Out.
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Check out some of my other pieces: OG Maco’s Intelligence, Social Media & Being Outspoken, From One Love To Another, Future’s Codeine Inspired Run, Tyrese Is Done As A Solo Artist & Nobody Cares, and Vince Staples’ ‘Summertime ‘06’ Disappointed Me.
