Lines about sleeping on floors as a child or getting shot during his days as a drug dealer aren’t new in his discography - instead, they feel like flashbacks to get new listeners up to speed. The Wizrd is a culminating chapter in Future’s discography, an attempt to write the definitive version of a story he’s told many times before. On “Rocket Ship,” he devotes the first line of the chorus to assuring listeners that he was “poppin’ since my demos.” It’s a hyperbolic touch, but he says it for a reason. “I’m god to you niggas/I worked too hard just to spoil you niggas?/You need to pay me my respects,” he says on “Krazy But True.” Then he offers a list of everything he’s given his ungrateful flock, ranging from the inane (socks, rings) to the more detailed (mixtape rollout plans, ad-libs). Its 20 songs sound like the final gasp of Future’s past depravity, undercut by his need to solidify his standing as one of the most influential artists of the last decade.įuture spends much of this album demanding proper credit, rapping like a bitter father disgusted with his musical progeny.
Yet the album that resulted is by turns dark, cocky, measured and angry. Before making The Wizrd, he reportedly kicked lean, took most of a year off from making music, and recalibrated. Like, ‘Damn, what have I done? What have I done to other people? What I did to myself?’”Īs those questions suggest, Future is now in the remorseful afterglow phase of his career. “This shit really fucked me up for a minute. “How many other sixth-graders did I influence to drink lean?” Future told Rolling Stone in a recent interview, discussing the revelation that his music inspired collaborator Juice WRLD to try lean as a child. Less than four years later, that self-diagnosis seems to be getting to him. “Tryna make a pop star and they made a monster,” he infamously rapped in 2015. At his most intense, he devoted his love songs to pharmaceuticals (“Codeine Crazy,” “Perkys Calling”) and his beef songs to past lovers (“My Collection,” “Throw Away”). His alter egos sang, rapped and growled stories of drug addiction, poverty and proud misogyny, a toxic but alluring mixture that spoke to millions of fans. For nearly a decade, Nayvadius Wilburn played a Kirkwood, Atlanta, underdog-turned-villain with many names: Super Future, Future Hendrix, Fire Marshal Future, Astronaut Kid, Pluto. Read Time:4 Minute, 30 Second Future tries to wave goodbye to his demons, but ends up reveling in the qualities that brought him acclaimįuture’s reign was always unsustainable.
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