GIVE ME BARABBAS over Yeezus.
Clumsy, disorienting, lumbering. Yeezus isn’t a trail of palm leafs announcing a triumphant return, but rather the path to Kanye’s complete and utter spiral into triviality. Some of the production on the album is tolerable and redeemable, the rapping on the other hand is an eruption of tediousness.
“I just talked to Jesus, he said whaddup Yeezus” is an actual verse on the album…nuff said. In I Am God Kanye asserts “I am a god, hurry up with my damn massage” if this is the case he’s clearly a god that’s both deaf and judging by the banal rhyming just proudly graduated from the 2nd grade. He cleverly rhymes God with God.
Kanye doesn’t really qualify as a human anymore. He’s morphed into something far more annoying. He’s that cloud of sulfur gas that someone crop dusts a train car with before leaving. That Trojan Virus you got while trying to leach the Teen Mom 2 porn. A Bar Louie. A pair of fivefinger vibrams. That piss soaked toilet paper that your forced to wipe with in the port-a-potty after a regrettable but unavoidable Lollapalooza dump.
I’m officially starting the rumor that Rob Kardashian ghost wrote this entire album. I’d like to thank Kanye for hissing a bunch of steaming hot zoo breath into my ear for the past 50 minutes. I would imagine I Am God is what Nick Cage was listening to during the bee scene of Wicker Man to achieve the below facial contortion and display of annoyance.