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Will Schube never had a deal but got more gwap than all of y’all.
It’s 1:57 AM in New York City and Young Dolph is getting a gyro. You’d think Dolph, who was shot during broad daylight in Los Angeles two years ago, would be skeptical of a late night snack in NYC, but the Memphis-bred rapper has always been enamored by the things that make us tic, the ways the streets function. Dolph doesn’t care much for semantics, either. Take “Crashin’ Out,” his latest single and three straight minutes of uninterrupted shit talking. No choruses, no hooks, just rhymes about low hangin’ nuts, flockin’, and ditching the rap game to play in the NBA.
Attempted hits on his life and label-less mixtapes don’t get to Dolph. Rather, the shit that really hurts is fake jewelry on his enemies. Don’t ever say Dolph isn’t empathetic. The rapper effortlessly moves back and forth from stories of wealth to stories of hustle, using one to remind the other that the two are co-dependent. Young Dolph enjoys this rap shit, but it’s still money over everything. In back-to-back lines Dolph goes from remembering the time his mom called him crying, telling him how proud she was, to snarling at his old homies that doubted him. Young Dolph’s great skill is his ability to relish in his success while never forgetting who helped him get there and who tried to hold him back. It’s this unique concoction of pain and joy that most readily shines in his music. But now that he’s made it, it’s Halal in the Bentley for all the homies.
