djfrosty

Hip-hop never strays too far from its roots, and that’s why there’s a bit of KRS-One on a 2024 Lil Uzi Vert album. On “She Stank,” a largely unremarkable track in which Uzi expresses his disdain for messing with women with less-than-ideal body odor, Uzi sings a bit of the chorus of Memphis Cult’s 2023 track “9mm.” That track actually interpolates its chorus from that of KRS-One’s “9mm Goes Bang,” a track from Boogie Down Productions 1987 Criminal Minded LP. The “Wa-da-da-dang, wa-da-da-da-dang” onomatopoeia goes back even further to Super Cat’s 1984 reggae hit “History,” a testament to the long, multicultural history of hip-hop and its Afro-Caribbean roots.

For the history it showcases, “She Stank” is one of the crown jewels of Eternal Atake 2. For quite literally everything else — from the tired drums to the lazy lyrics — it’s one of the album’s worst offerings.

Quality control has always been Uzi’s Achilles heel, and Eternal Atake 2 predictably houses more than a few tracks that were better suited for the chopping block. “Paars in the Mars” — in which Uzi tried to pass off 85 repetitions of the word “Wock” as a chorus — isn’t a good song. Uzi sounds profoundly uninterested in their own song; he rattles off lines that vaguely fit in the same rhyme scheme (“She from New York, yeah, yeah, she get chopped for cheese/ Skateboard, n—a, zoom, yeah, yeah, she tryna grind for me”) but do nothing to further develop the album’s concept.

To close out Eternal Atake 2, Uzi puts the singing to rest and gets back to spitting. “They say that my lyrics ain’t lyricism, I say that you just hating much/ I just want one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen million right to Jatavia/ You try to say I don’t got swag, but I look at your shirt, it look like you still in Burberry much,” he raps in the track’s sole proper verse of startling sparse snare-laden production from Cashmere Cat, MCVertt, Trgc & Darkoivx.

It’s a disappointing closer, one that does little to wrap the project together or offer a conclusion to any of the narrative threads and characters that were introduced from the very first track.

Sometimes, album sequels feel like cheap ploys because the new set bears little to no sonic, aesthetic or thematic connection to the original. “Light Year” ensures Eternal Atake 2 doesn’t fall victim to that trap, by returning to the rapid-fire verses and synth-laden compositions of OG LP. “I ain’t Hollywood, do some shit for my cousin/ That’s what I’m posed to, but that shit wasn’t nothin’/ I just got a n—a hit for like four or five hundred/ I just came from the A with like four or five buttons,” he spits at the end of the track, aligning himself closer to standard hip-hop tropes than the intergalactic reality TV star he established at the onset of the EA2 rollout.

Interestingly, “Light Year” also renders “We Good” a half-truth of sorts, thanks to the line, “I’m fresh off the nitrous, ain’t mess up a bit-it.” Clearly, Uzi the Earthling still has some things to figure out.

“We Good” finds Uzi kicking off Eternal Atake 2 by casually dropping a bone-chilling nugget of truth. “Yeah, new contract, I read mines/ They said I was lost/ They thought I was a dead guy/ I was on that NOS,” he spits over a whirring, raucous beat courtesy of Cashmere Cat and WondaGurl. “NOS,” of course, refers to nitrous oxide, more commonly known as laughing gas, a substance that fans speculated Uzi to be using in the lead-up to Eternal Atake 2.

With his cavalier delivery, his use of past tense in reference to NOS, and his repeated promises of “Mama, swear we good,” Eternal Atake 2’s opener showcases an Uzi who is eager to hit the reset button and spin the block on days less marred by controversy and questionable life choices. He sounds frantic here, as if he’s clawing his way back to a version of his old self. Despite the tepidly received Pink Tape and his alleged laughing gas use, Uzi wants to make it very clear that he’s not a “dead guy.” Who can resist blatant course correction over a fire beat?

Features have become ridiculously political in recent years, and for the sole collaboration on Eternal Atake 2, Uzi looked past his contemporaries and instead recruited…. Big Time Rush. Yes, that Big Time Rush, of Nickelodeon fame.

Sonically, “The Rush” would have been much more interesting if Uzi did a post-Pink Tape take on the group’s pop-rock boy band sound or sampled one of their biggest hits. Instead, Big Time Rush appears at the beginning for a bit of dialogue (“Dude, you’re not Big Time Rush/ We’re Big Time Rush”) before they completely disappear for the remainder of the track. “The Rush,” as catchy as it is, is clearly an example of Uzi having a smart wordplay idea and using his celebrity and capital to pull off a stunt collaboration. Not that Big Time Rush and Lil Uzi Vert would have crafted a Stevie Wonder-level opus, but you can’t help but feel that all parties involved left a lot on the table with this concept — a running theme throughout Eternal Atake.

With boilerplate braggadocious, womanizing lyrics over an ominous trap beat, “Meteor Man” keeps Eternal Atake 2 in line with its predecessor. It’s a fine Uzi song, if not a predictable one, but the nauseating “this is an aura” hook feels so shamelessly designed for TikTok slideshows that the song ironically loses any “aura” of its own. If you can get past that bit, “Meteor Man” is a fun, cosmic take on a “pump your chest” anthem — one that finds him injecting contemporary rap’s most mundane tropes with subtle notes of glitchy electronic music.

Charlie Puth’s production on a rap ballad predicated on Percocet/perky sex wordplay? Sure, why not?! “PerkySex” answers the question: what if Eternal Atake 2 era Uzi made a slow jam that pulled from contemporary pop as much as it does from Jersey club? Whether they’re making love to the drugs, their partner, or both at the same time, Uzi sounds equally sincere in every scenario. And that’s honestly a much more impressive feat to pull off because it’s solely reliant on the emotional heft of his vocal delivery.

Robert Goddard — the American engineer credited with creating and building the world’s first liquid-fueled rocket — would probably be very flattered by “Goddard Song.” Comprised of Young Thug-esque moans and melodious, atmospheric production, “Goddard Song” finds Uzi doubling down on his eccentricities and idiosyncracies without a care in the world. “I could break down the swag, but I don’t even wanna give it up,” they remind us. Even when it doesn’t land, there’s no one in hip-hop doing it quite like Uzi — and no one really can, as they use the intro to remind us. “If you put it on the Internet, someone’s gonna hate it!”

Is it predictable that one of the most somber Eternal Atake 2 songs is titled “Black Hole?” Absolutely, but it’s still one of the more interesting moments on the record. Here, Uzi dips their toe into a pool of melancholy but stops short of going any deeper. “I don’t wanna f–k, that’s a lay-up/ It’s a setup ’cause I’m one of one/ Got two guns, but I’m one of one/ Yeah, they know that I’m never done/ Came back with my second run,” they spit, allowing a brief moment to mull over their fears of being “trapped” via pregnancy and the evolution of their relationship with sex before flexing a victory lap. As is the case with far too many songs on the album, Uzi could and should have delved even further into those self-effacing moments.

Of course, the Young Thug shoutout must also be mentioned — especially considering he won back his freedom the same day Eternal Atake 2 dropped. “I’m from Philly, but it’s still free Slime,” Uzi proclaims.

Introduced by twinkling piano keys, Uzi gives his opps hell on “Lyft Em Up.” “Most of these n—as, they think that I’m feminine ’cause I just walk with a switch/ You see my pockets? Bitch, they fat, the opposite of Ozempic/ Lil Uzi Vert, yeah, you know I still be in them trenches/ You would think Lil Ho my lil’ cousin way I got all this Lululemon,” he spits over a booming trap beat.

Their flow here is great and the “I treat the Maybach truck like it’s a Lyft/ Please don’t get lifted” wordplay is slick, but Uzi’s reliance on repetition (the third verse is the same two bars rapped twice in a row) stunts the potential of these songs — especially his verses. From the “Uzi the Earthling” theme to the album’s visuals, there’s a whole world to unpack on Eternal Atake 2 that Uzi largely chooses to ignore outside of surface-level references, and that’s frustrating to hear from an artist who has such grand visions. At least “Lyft Em Up” finds Uzi actively conjuring the energy and swagger of the OG Eternal Atake’s most rap-forward songs.

Eternal Atake 2 might be an inconsistent effort, but when the pendulum swings in Uzi’s favor, the level of quality is always top-notch. Complete with opulent horns and production that revels in how grand it feels, “Mr Chow” — which takes its title from the gloriously hedonistic antagonist of the Hangover trilogy — immediately transports Uzi to 2020. It’s a triumphant track that reminds us that Uzi can still tap into the energy of Eternal Atake despite the new record’s sloppier moments.

Uzi embraced a “Mr Chow” alter ego last year, writing on their Instagram Story: “Chow understands people don’t like [the] ways of Chow. But Chow don’t give a f**k. Chow rich and never look back. Suck my monkey tail. Leslie out.” Hedonism is one of Uzi’s best modes; both the character of Mr. Chow and the lush soundscape of “Mr. Chow” allow him ample room to explore just how dark and garish he can get. “I be forgettin’ my time zones/ I’m on the K with the X and I flex/ I must admit that I’m gone,” he spits.

Pink Tape found Uzi playing around with punk, nu metal and hard rock to middling results, so it wasn’t entirely surprising that guitars are largely absent on Eternal Atake 2. Nonetheless, they harness the softest acoustic pop edges of the guitar for “Conceited,” a downtempo rap ballad that continues the back half of the album’s preoccupation with working through the mess that is Uzi’s romantic life.

The real gem here is the chorus, an earnest, pop-punk-informed hook that pulls from a post-Juice WRLD gloominess infused with Auto-Tuned R&B vocal stacks. “You only call me when it’s all bad/ I fall for you and I ain’t call back/ But my respect for you, I lost that,” he wails. It’s borderline criminal that Uzi hid the album’s best-crafted pop song and chorus as the penultimate track on an album full of unimpressive hooks, but at least they included it on the album at all.

If ever there was a song specifically designed to be blasted in state-of-the-art car speakers, it’s “Chips and Dip.” From the blaring, maxed-out bass to their use of a melodic delivery to paint across the sparser bits of the song’s production before ensuring their enunciation properly complements the track’s more percussive moments, “Chips and Dip” finds Uzi practically levitating on the track.

“How the f–k he my enemy and his main car is a ’63?/ And I heard that that b—h a lease and your main broad drive a Mitsubishi/ Lil Uzi Vert, I’m applyin’ pressure/ Kit on the Glock, got a five vector,” he spits, opting for a brasher approach to match the track’s overall high-octane feel.

When Uzi locks in, they’re unstoppable. For the simple fact that they finally eschew their reliance on mind-numbing repetition, “Not an Option” is one of the best songs on Eternal Atake 2. Over a brooding, ascending synths that feel like a digitized, futuristic take on the melodramatic strings of a Roman epic soundtrack, Uzi seamlessly fits into a slightly staccato pocket in which he can deliver more rapid-fire raps before opting for a more melodic, rap-sung approach in the second verse. Their ability to transform their tone and use different filters to completely reconfigure their voice should make every Uzi track feel exciting and limitless — “Not an Option” is the closest Eternal Atake 2 gets to that feeling during its first half.

With its Drake-esque pleas to “please don’t do the most right now” and decidedly pop&B groove, “Chill Bae” is probably the best shot Eternal Atake 2 has at scoring a hit, hence its official music video dropping alongside the album release. Reminiscent of the mid-2010s Uzi — perhaps the time they best understood how to blend their most impulsive musical urges with where the mainstream was — “Chill Bae” is apologetic, confessional and refreshingly human.

“When I hit you up, you always hit ignore right now/ And I don’t undеrstand why you mad at the boy right now/ ‘Cause I know you wouldn’t want me, I was poor right now/ Tears on my face, they droppin’ and they pour right down,” he raps in the first verse, granting us a bit of access to the person behind the otherworldly characters and concepts. It’s the first time on the album — outside of the laughing gas references — that Uzi gives us a peek into what exactly is going on in their head at this point in their life and career. Similar to “I’m Sorry and “That Way” from the first Eternal Atake and its deluxe edition, “Chill Bae” is a winning addition to Uzi’s rap ballad cannon.