Future
DS2

<< Get out of the way a little, because if you keep it up you'll rot together with these four walls! >>

A kick in the face, then darkness for a few seconds: on the ground, dazed, after being uprooted from my habitat (those four walls are a world, not a house), with the taste of asphalt in my mouth.

Well, staying home, I was rotting anyway. I call three of my friends, hungry vipers that twist like ivy or, if you prefer, thirsty vampires. Doesn't matter, I'm full of poison too, I can't expect better company.

Destination, any city, as long as you can blend in with the crowd. Milan is perfect. Milan is evil.

As soon as I arrive, I fall victim to its scorching embrace: so hot it feels like I'm melting. Sky covered by a thousand lights with abundant precipitations of superficial conversations; it's hard not to drown in it, but I still stay afloat, silent. My friends and I are tossed around by the human current, until the siren song of a decent offer from a place seduces us. We enter the mouth of Hell, and I lose count of what I start drinking. Strange, I'm not even thirsty. I lose the sense of reality.

Future Dirty Sprite Legendary - DS2

You know that trance-like sensation between the moment you wake up with a dreadful hangover and the moment after when headache and nausea knock loudly? And the feeling of death that accompanies you for the rest of the day? Well, this album is that feeling.

Hallucinatory, dreamlike, dirty, at times minimal and mean. DRUGGED.

The distorted bass, those damn bass so distorted they drill into your eardrums. And then Future's confused rap, a sort of continuous flow of moans, animal sounds, and shouts filtered through autotune, always present.

It's pointless to look for introspective insights or deeply reflective lyrics, those are things we leave to others: no, here you will only find references to drugs (a ton), sordid hookups, and superstar vices. Only this.

An album with strong grotesque tones, compact and solid. The sound of Atlanta, that of degraded, slimy underbellies, Trap Houses, and low life, the kind that should accompany every damn hangover of yours, is in here.

<< Eeeh ok, fine, but Trap? >>

It's this album.

<< I JUST FUCKED YOUR BITCH IN SOME GUCCI FLIP FLOPS ....>> I think it's the best opening line ever for a record.