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Rick Ross - TrillaAlbum Review by:
John Burnett
Monday, March 10, 2008
 Preview/Download MP3 I've come to a disheartening and perplexing conclusion. I—like many rap heads—am addicted to crack rap. After mad years of hearing the same embellished Tony Montana motifs play out over different beats I still enjoy hearing properly executed rhymes about the wanton exploits of your respective neighborhood medicine man. And judging from the sales that are attached to some of these coke-laden rap discs, so do you. The narrator on this occasion happens to be Rick Ross and the cinematic experience is Trilla.
Based off of Port of Miami, I predicted two things for what I’d hear on Trilla. There was going to be some dope beats and probably a few (much sarcasm intended) references to coke. I was right about both but there was also an added bonus. Coming out on the back end, I’ve come to the realization either Rick Ross acquired an ill ghostwriter or dude’s flow has vastly improved. On the Bink! produced (and eerily Roc-A-Fella nostalgia inducing) “We Shinin’” I caught a surprise blow to the chin by the quote “am I a target for police because I puff E/not an artist I’m regarded as a Puffy/like a pimp I’mma skip past a Kim Porter/like a pimp order, pimp, I import her.” I mean this is Rick Ross right? The flow doesn’t fall off either with Ross tucked neatly between the church-like organs and wailing sample. Then there’s the literal gangster role call provided on the “Trilla Intro” where Ross oddly proclaims he’s rhyming with kush and lean on his breath. In the most sinister way possible Ross gruffly barks “I don’t give a fuck about death/cause death don’t give a fuck about flesh/cause flesh don’t give a fuck about mine/and never gave fuck about mine.” The track feels like Scarface at the top taunting the reaper.
Call me naïve but at times I almost believe Ross has slung massive amounts of blow but that’s the vivid picture painted at points during Trilla. The Jay-Z assisted “Maybach Music” is boastful drug rap at its most sophisticated point. The J.U.S.T.I.C.E. League track feels Michael Corleone-approved and has both emcees ruminating on affluence by way of the lavish German luxury automobile. The dramatic backdrop (i.e. the beat) provides for the most memorable moments in the song like Ross’ “400 off the lot on the block is monumental…some things your money can’t buy/like heaven in the sky or even a better ride” or Jay’s “the Maybach is bananas…peeled back.” Of course, Jay styles all over the track outshining the Boss effortlessly but c’mon it’s Hov. “Billionaire” follows with Ross discussing the envy created by his wealth but the track takes a turn for the worse towards the end when Ross brags about his white girl who gives good head and has good credit—a bit trite if you ask me. Thankfully, the crew cut that follows picks the momentum back up. “Luxury Tax” places Lil Wayne, Young Jeezy and Trick Daddy over yet another J.U.S.T.I.C.E. League heater. Each does as expected on the track. The end of this tale is of course the obligatory “I did what I could to make it” track “I’m Only Human,” which does provide some insight into Ross’ personal life but seems a bit wasted after 10-12 odd tracks of celebrating drug money.
Trilla is a visual album that illustrates a boss. That vision is cheapened by the over-the-top “Money Make Me Come.” You’re also distracted “Reppin My City” that big ups the 305 but seems awkwardly placed. Trimming a few fillers here and there would’ve made this a great record but it turns out being a pretty good one. The production is damn near immaculate with beats from Toomp, Mannie Fresh, J.R. Rotem, The Runners, Drumma Boy and the rise of production collective, J.U.S.T.I.C.E. League. Then Rick steps up his game flow-wise. It makes for a strong case to look into this album. Trilla offers little to no substance which will probably give it a short rotation in the iPod but I must say it’s surprisingly good.
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