Having come out the other side of the legal labyrinth, he smirks and doubles down (by way of cold-blooded revenge carried out in rental cars) on “Retaliation,” one of Touchdown‘s twin standouts. “I t’s true I got more than most but I’m caged up like the rest.”ĭuring that aforementioned murder trial, the prosecution was allowed to use Boosie’s lyrics as evidence against him. Boosie is acutely aware of his two major advantages over those in adjacent cells–namely, his fame and his acquittal–but the truth is that at the bottom, it’s flat. The dispatches from jail are as bleak as you might expect: on “Window of my Eyes,” the “letters get shorter, face get grayer” “I’m Sorry” is weighed down by the understanding that most apologies ring hollow. He does, swapping credit cards for rubber bands and jumpsuits for mink coats. (Boosie indicated as much to the owner of this site in their correspondence during the course of the rapper’s 2012 murder trial.) The intro’s imperative is simple– get ’em, Boosie. Lots of the material here feels as if it fits chronologically before Deathrow where that tape began with Boosie walking out the prison gates, Touchdown finds him stewing in his cell, plotting his revenge. It had the requisite barbs for fair-weather friendsand those who shirked him altogether, but it also had collect calls back to Angolaand laments for his cell mates who might never get released. Last year, Boosie announced his return with a soulful, empathetic mixtape, Life After Deathrow. Boosie was left to rot in Angola for half a decade, but all the emotional muck–the abandonment, the soul searching, the simmering rage–comes out in long form, not in fortune cookie epiphanies. He turns up on “Spoil You,” the worst song on Lil Boosie’s long-awaited comeback album, Touchdown 2 Cause Hell. It’s poetic, really: Though Boosie and Tip are probably both victims of a corrupt, racist justice system, the Baton Rouge cult hero navigates his return to rap with more nuance, more vigor. The resulting album, 2008’s Paper Trail, had glimpses of the vicious, cackling Clifford Harris, but it was bogged down by blunt moralizing and tedious image rehab.
He was charged with two felonies and would eventually serve about seven months in jail and pay over $100,000 in restitution.
Then, T.I. was caught trying to buy military-grade firearms from a federal informant in a Walgreens parking lot. He was rapping about bagging coke in Louis Vuitton knapsacks (or, over Mannie Fresh beats, that he was “ a known drug dealer“) he crossed over, but he didn’t lose the plot. But do you remember T.I.? He could slide onto top 40 with a sneer, part Pimp C, part Ferris Bueller. Paul Thompson been praying for Webbie ’cause Webbie wild with that chrome.ĭo you remember T.I.? I know you saw his cameo in the Entourage movie, smirked at his publishing split on “Blurred Lines,” heard Young Thug put him in a fireman’s carry last year.
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