With few exceptions, the release of a major-label record from a hip-hop veteran tends to be inherently sad, a merciful end to its struggle for existence. It carries constant reminders of the indifference it faced in numerous record label offices: catchphrases and namedrops that would’ve been timely had the record dropped a year or so ago, big-name producers appearing as courteous gestures and for quick paychecks, a tracklist riddled with guest verses and collaborations that somehow seem reverent and disrespectful at the same time. As with Jeezy’s previous LP, 2011's Thug Motivation 103: Hustlerz Ambition, all of these things are present on Seen It All: The Autobiography. Similarly, the fact that it’s any good at all might be a greater testament to Jeezy’s skills than his albums that are actually great on their own terms.
You might’ve noticed that Jeezy's dropped the “Young”, but that’s the only time the transitional nature of Seen It All is entirely his doing. The guy is in a spot that makes executive decisions more difficult: he’s still bankable, but not an A-lister. He calls out Def Jam's endless meddling by name in “Me OK”, all while threatening to drop his album on Atlantic. But since it’s the hottest track here, the bosses ostensibly let it slide. Moreover, Jeezy struck up a valuable alliance with DJ Mustard and even if you don't remember a single track from TM103, it still sold 233,000 copies in its first week.
He’s given tracks from Mike WiLL Made-It and Drumma Boy, which barely sound that different from what Shawty Redd provided Jeezy on Thug Motivation 101: Let’s Get It. But their beats lack that record’s assured sound. Jeezy’s more respected than influential right now—the sound of Atlanta rap bears more in common with the vocal and lyrical unorthodoxy of his former rival Gucci Mane or current collaborator Future—making Jeezy a classic rock riffer in a post-punk world, which means he’s lasted long enough to possibly appeal to the purists who dismissed him back in 2004.
It’s not necessarily an insult to call Jeezy a punchline rapper at this point. That’s what he’s always been, really—his bars were all slogans, ad-libs, and smart/dumb similes that were delivered so confidently, you could only briefly eye-roll before ad-libbing right along with him. He made light of this on The Recession’s “Word Play”, which silenced the “lyrical” heads with half a bar—“I’m way too intelligent/ To play with my intelligence.” And here, Jeezy delivers a host of howlers with the aplomb and lack of quality control you’d expect from a stand-up working out new material. He’s got birds like Chick-fil-A; however, he’s on the block on Sundays, unlike Chick-fil-A. He boasts about having a cooking show on Netflix called “The Best Bricks”, which, come on—at least call it “House of Birds” or "Orange is the New Crack". He also rhymes “Plaxico” with “Texaco” like Gucci Mane, and “Atlantic” with “Atlantic” like Rick Ross, so you're left reminiscing about a time when all three rappers were all actually still beefing and making great music.
This makes Seen It All intermittently enjoyable, even if it completely cuts against the presumed goal of presenting Jeezy as an elder statesman of the South along the lines of Bun B or Scarface. It’s a transformation that’s occurred by circumstance rather than growth; the dude doesn’t tell stories and, while pithy, he doesn’t spit wisdom. Jeezy’s music is post-triumph and visceral, channeling the power of what it feels like to be Trapper of the Year four years in a row even if you're doing concentration curls or a heavy load of laundry, or you're just enduring a long commute back from your office job.
And that’s still the case, as Seen It All: The Autobiography doesn’t deliver on either one of its titular promises. Here’s what we can tell about Jeezy’s life: he experienced much success as a drug dealer prior to rapping, he has a lot of guns and has fallen out with friends over money, and he really thinks you should try Tequila Avion because it's fucking awesome. Given the number of times it's mentioned, Seen It All could pass for a longform Avion commercial; you'd think the first 35 years of Jeezy's life were mere prelude to being named a "Multicultural Advisor" for the brand.
Which results in Jeezy being shown up by every rapper who’s willing to offer something close to full disclosure. If not remorse, Lil Boosie shows the real consequences of his jail sentence on “Beez Like”, bemoaning how he missed the first time his daughter had her period. And though he has nothing to gain by doing so, even Jay Z is willing to name names and get specific about his days herbin' 'em in the home of the Terrapins.
Otherwise, you've heard it all on Seen It All*:* there’s something called “Been Getting Money” and you could probably come up with 85% of it in your head before your first listen. (I’ll spot you “ft. Akon” as a hint.) Conversely, a Jeezy track named "Black Eskimo" could never live up to what you think it might sound like. There’s a six minute song with Rick Ross and the Game, which is no fun now that they’re all getting along with each other. The deluxe edition contains “Fuck the World”, which features R&B seat filler August Alsina and is only notable for being a Jeezy love song that isn’t as embarrassing as “Tear It Up”.
But none of this really seems to matter right now, because a 38-year-old man was shot and killed at a Wiz Khalifa concert and Jeezy was recently held in custody with five of his associates on $1 million bail. It will inevitably be used as a “teachable moment” about Jeezy and hip-hop as a whole and make Seen It All a footnote, but those are the least of the problems presented here—a man is dead and Jeezy may have had something to do with it, and even shittier is that you’re reminded of Jeezy’s other, very disturbing 2014 run-in with the law. So maybe the vagueness of Seen It All actually works in its favor: had it been autobiographical, it may have been even more inherently sad than it already is.
