Review: Rick Ross Dips Deeper Into Consciousness on ‘Rather You Than Me’
Rick Ross‘ ninth album finds the Miami kingpin
in a reflective mood. Musically, he’s drifting through a mid-career malaise. The
beats he uses are the same worn poles of yacht-rap luxury and trap bangers that
he’s relied on since his 2010 watermark Teflon
Don. Lyrically, he’s still capable of speaking truth to power with
remarkable clarity. His unexpected shots at Cash Money Records paterfamilias Birdman
on “Idols Become Rivals,” and how he compares him to a pedophile
priest, may have the Internet chattering. But more impressive is how he balances
his accusations of Birdman’s licentious treatment towards his artists within an
analysis about the fake watches, leased Benzes and overpaid video vixens that
populate rap’s glamorous façade. Elsewhere, Ross shouts out Mutulu Shakur on “Santorini
Reece,” then adds, “White man love me when I get my bling on/But you
hate me buying real estate and foreign land.” He stuffs his rhymes with
stray notes about his tough upbringing, and remembers on “Game Ain’t Based
on Sympathy” about growing up on welfare: “I thank God my kids ain’t
gotta see that cheese,” he says. Rozay’s newfound social conscience is
welcome growth from the days when he bragged about knowing the real Manuel Noriega, but he’s only woke to a certain point: Rather You Than Me also includes the
self-explanatory “She on My Dick,” and on “I Think She Like Me”
he drawls, “If a pussy dry, call her Beetlejuice.”