Since Kodak Black emerged as a prodigious talent at the front of the new rap class, it’s been clear the only thing that could derail his run would be violence. That has largely held true: For every platinum hit or Top 5 charting album, there’s been a corresponding arrest and prison stint, all overshadowed by a felony charge of sexual battery. The pall cast by these charges (and sometimes petty misbehavior) hangs over each new Kodak release. He was in prison when Lil B.I.G. Pac came out, and a probation violation postponed his tour earlier this year. But these crimes haven’t stifled the momentum of the 20-year-old rapper, who, despite controversy, is more popular than ever. He is an introspective MC who dwells on personal tragedies, and his music delves deep into miscreancy, the kinds for which he stands accused or convicted of committing.
His latest mixtape, Project Baby 2, is less measured than he’s been in the past and plays against his strengths. The project is an uneven collection of love songs and self-gratifying ego-boosters that seek to depict a troubled romantic and workhorse snared by street life. But he comes off as disingenuous on a bloated release of limp ballads and his most colorless punch lines.
So much of Kodak’s most evocative writing requires a cold self-analysis and wise-for-his-age world-weariness, but here he only turns his piercing gaze toward those he believes have wronged him, and walls himself off to avoid any maturation in the process. “Everybody tellin’ me I need to change/But then y’all gon’ complain when a nigga change/Bossed up you sayin’ lately he ain’t been the same/Fuck it y’all just wanna hate me anyways,” he raps on “Unexplainable.” The mixtape paints a portrait of an obstinate youngster unwilling to really be held accountable for his actions. Which is especially troubling considering not just his many ongoing run-ins with the law but his tiresome, outspoken homophobia and all-around unrelenting insensitiveness. In his world, he’s the victim: No one is worthy of his trust, while he’s merely misunderstood.
There are always conversations about separating the art from the artist with releases like this, the idea being that art exists free from the restrictions of its creator. But how much separation can there be when Kodak enlists fellow alleged abuser XXXtentacion for “Roll in Peace,” and X proceeds to rap, “Last time I wifed a bitch she told the world I beat her, huh/When they locked Lil Kodak up, my nigga I couldn’t believe it, huh.” These two aren’t just unapologetic, they’re apathetic. And it’s hard to listen to Kodak—who's accused of punching a female bartender and committing acts of sexual violence—rap something like, “Shawty love for me to choke her when I’m in that pussy” or “I can’t be killing bitches, getting blood on my Givenchys,” or “Now she give me head whenever I knock her head off.” These moments are cringe-worthy and disturbing. There is cognitive dissonance, in this case particularly, in enjoying such flagrant showings of sadistic misogyny.
Even putting aside these tone-deaf bits, Project Baby 2 is the most inconsistent Kodak project since he first broke out with “No Flockin.” Nineteen tracks spread the good bars too thin, and his storytelling and scene-setting have regressed, particularly on “Built My Legacy” and “You Do That Shit.” Punches come less often and carry less weight. More off-brand cuts like “First Love” and “Need a Break” expose the most grating aspects of his squawking drawl, which can become a yowl when he pushes the limits of his singing voice.
But at his best, Kodak can be a disarming orator and there are flashes of this transparency on Project Baby 2. “I be too quick reachin’ out for my gun/I hope my son don’t turn out to be a thug/I know that gangster shit run in his blood,” he raps on “Change My Ways,” later adding, “I need to change my surroundings/I’m tryna be a little calmer/I can’t go back to the bottom.” These hopes for a better present for himself and future for his son are raw and gripping. Then there the songs that deliver snapshots of the things that make him a versatile performer. The ghostly “Don’t Wanna Breathe” is intoxicating, slurred take on a star-crossed romance. His heaving cadences propel syllables into downbeats on “Up Late.” But his clearest moment of self-awareness comes on standout “Misunderstood”: “Did so much dirt I wonder how I still be gettin’ any blessings.” This contradiction stands at the core of the conflict in listening to him.
