Wiz reaches for the Auto-Tune, fares no better…
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[3.43]
Crystal Leww: This song starts with “hold up hold up hold up hold up” — literally the worst approach that Wiz Khalifa, already a rapper that no one is ever excited to listen to, could take to start his song. Somehow, it manages to get worse in the verses, where every single line is like Wiz throwing shade at himself. This is embarrassing.
[2]
Brad Shoup: Months of all these new kids effortlessly commanding attention makes Khalifa’s hook oddly poignant. He sounds alone. It doesn’t help that he shouts the hook into the gloom for the first forty-five seconds. His choked melody give this a frisson of anger; every boast is filled with rage. Detail is content to let his movie-title synths unspool, breaking things up with snatches of pointless verite dialogue.
[5]
Andy Hutchins: We already have one Future. I like him better. He deserves thumping Detail productions like this, because he would actually do something with them other than throw a low-cal double-time flow on them. But you can cook to this.
[3]
Alfred Soto: That’s an awful lot of confidence to expend on this lame a hook.
[3]
Edward Okulicz: This hook would be annoying even if it seemed to be congruent with the rest of the song. But “we,” Wiz? In a track whose verses seem to have mostly singular personal pronouns in them, whose dramatic synths are like a theme suited to a lone hunter figure, whose mission is to neg everyone including himself to procure pussy and then cry alone in his Mercedes afterwards (or during, I can’t tell) while being angry at something or other.
[3]
Anthony Easton: I collapsed into the worst giggles when in the midst of this drug- and sex-filled romp, immediately after complimenting her fat ass, he asks the woman to have a baby. All the points are to assume that bathetic fall was intentional.
[3]
Megan Harrington: I admire how concise this is, though it could be even more condensed. The hook stays, the gossipy tidbit about turning Nicki into a stoner stays, the line about getting Becky stays. The “hol’ up”s are relegated to no more than ten seconds at the track’s beginning and end. It’s then less than a minute long and embraced as a piece of radical stoner propaganda. When the apocalypse strikes, Wiz heads up a tribe of a peaceful revelers, his long white beard yellowed around the mouth from a still daily smoke habit. As it exists in reality, this is catchy enough but will be easily displaced by whatever catchy thing succeeds it. Major bummer.
[5]