He's another breed: a rapper and a rock star. He manages to differentiate himself from easy race comparisons - while also acknowledging his conflicting privilege - rapping about being "the coldest white rapper in the game since the one with the bleached hair" and asking "what if the game didn't care I was white?" He's not corny like Macklemore, not scary like Eminem (circa 2000), not as earnest and afflicted as newcomer Witt Lowry. By weaving such tales of danger and pleasure, G-Eazy delivers a bevy of vicarious escapes to his listeners. G-Eazy covers familiar ground, spinning similar tales of drugs, partying, and fornicating over 17 addictive tracks without the decadence ever growing stale, like wandering through different, enticing corners of a dark club. Yet despite the pitfalls and pain that he raps about here, the lures of pleasure and fame remain mighty. He spits about what he knows: gratification, how to attain it, and the energy expended in the process. On G-Eazy's second LP, When It's Dark Out, the self-made Young Gerald oozes confidence on a nocturnal journey of hedonistic rhymes set to the wooziest of productions.
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