Rick Ross vs. Squadda B: Street Rap at the Breaking Point

Two new mixtapes, Rick Ross' Rich Forever, and Squadda B's Back $elling Crack recently hit the Internet — the former ostentatious and fantastical (still defined by 2010 mega-hit "B.M.F."), the latter aggressively smooth and confessional (think: "cloud rap"). And they very pointedly pull street rap in dramatically different directions. A stop-gap release between last year's Teflon Don and the upcoming God Forgives, I Don't, Rich Forever finds Ross typically referencing guns, drugs, and snitches. Though, in a fascinating postmodern turn, his drug-lord persona also takes a backseat, as he mostly talks about the money he's now earning that's he's a famous rapper. The beats are glorious and shiny, but there's a tedium to Ross' bellowing style — like a steroidal version of Young Jeezy, who was already a steroidal version of Cam'ron and Clipse, which is actually the ideal image for this engorged, hustling kingpin and his new mixtape: Roided-out twice over.

As a phrase, "rich forever" ain't exactly badass; it sounds a bit like a 5-year-old's birthday wish. And yeah yeah yeah, Ross is mining the Throne, Drake, and everybody else's other-foot-dropping perspective on fame (he has to declare he'll be rich forever precisely because he knows he won't be), but it nonetheless sounds exhausted. Ross is an A-student of the street-rap game, which means he executes every element of the genre well, but with little emotion, joy, or deviation. The title track, a limp, slow-building epic with John Legend melodramatically crooning like Scott Walker, doesn't hit with much impact, though it makes enough noise to pass as convincing.

Back $elling Crack, a solo mixtape from one-half of New Underground crew Main Attrakionz is indeed, a street rap album, which may seem odd from this duo best known for making "cloud rap" — diffuse hip-hop, in which feeling and mood took precedence over lyrics, or even cohesion. Given the low-stakes accusations often sent Main Attrakionz' way, this mixtape feels vital. Squadda B declares that while rap's aesthetic goal posts have moved — eccentric former crack-slingers like Main Attrakionz scan as "weirdos" while a fount of cinematic cliches like Ross gets over as a "gangsta" — his mind is still filled with harsh memories of hustling.

The first song is called "Honda Accord" (for contrast, Ross has a Diddy collab called "New Bugatti") and "72 Bus Stop" is a hyper-local shout-out to where he went to school, sold drugs, got beat-up, but now shoots his music videos, done in the style of Ross' "B.M.F." Another nod to the radio is "Green Ova Way," their blog version of "Big Pimpin." It's an extended shout-out to Squadda's collective and features hilariously honest lines like, "I hang with robbers and jackers / I'm lookin' like a nerd but I keep me a clapper."

While Ross is content to sink into escapist fantasy, running away from his well-documented history as a correctional officer, Squadda returns to his past, when drug dealing was a not-so-fun, lonely reality. Yet, it's not only emotional honesty that makes Back $elling Crack a success, it's music that's just as catchy and cathartic as the bangers on Rich Forever. "Leave the Tags On 2K12" and "All Star Shit" are big dumb earworms just like "Fuck Em" and "Ring Ring."

And Back $elling Crack feels more like a street album than Rich Forever, anyway: It's honest, full of quirks and personality, and even features some delirious, Dipset-absurd decisions. Squadda turns himself into a slapsticky dopeboy on "Say That 2 Say This," admitting that "pants was so big, I used to fall when I'd jet." On "Van Halen," he raps over the lead guitar from "Ain't Talkin' 'Bout Love," and "Mama House" pays tribute to his mom over a beat that samples Fleetwood Mac's "Landslide." Danny Brown, another former d-boy who proves there's more than one way to signify "hood," shows up on "Down," a haunting track that uses Squadda's mumbling voice to convey the wear and tear of the grind.

Street rap — emotive, aggressive hip-hop that's explicitly about crime — was once the place of big booming personalities, but is now just an endless cycle of nearly anonymous grunters and boasters, epitomized by Rick Ross. So, why can't this sound simply go the way of '90s boom-bap? Something like Back $elling Crack renders Rich Forever obsolete.

One quick final note (and a welcome affront to street-rap's tough-guy armor): Jay-Z's "Glory." The rapper who drew the blueprint for the Modern Rap Asshole — but has, to varying degrees of success, tried to correct that post-retirement — just released this goofily earnest song to his newborn daughter, Blue Ivy Carter. It's corny when it wants to be, because proud dads are corny ("You're my child with the child from Destiny's Child"), but the concept is shockingly vulnerable for the usually impervious MC (he's a rapper rapping about something that words admittedly cannot describe). And the song knows when to "go there," referencing a miscarriage and devoting some time to Jay's father who failed him on pretty much every level. It's that injection of pain, that decision to allow even the birth of his daughter be tainted by the cold reality of his past, that makes the song so touching, and perhaps, a death knell for grandiose thugging.