This is large scale music executed with the kind of precision Gucci’s so obnoxiously felt eager to avoid his entire career. That’s what’s so strange about Trap House III–it’s none of the things you’d expect from a Gucci Mane solo album, let alone a mixtape. Despite a release schedule every bit as prolific as a Lil’ B or Curren$y, most Gucci Mane-affiliated releases end up feeling like comebacks, perhaps because he constantly seems on the edge of self-parody. There has been a lot of music headlined by Gucci Mane in the past six months–by rough estimate, about six hours of music–and much of it has been remarkably focused on creating familiar comeback riffs over and over again. Trap House III remains a strange experience precisely because it aims to surprise at every turn. It’s a move straight out of early ’90s Memphis made even more amazing by Ross’ willingness to act along, playing a Big Bad Wolf whose words are way less important than the fact he sounds perfect in this context. Gucci Mane accentuates this ostentatious musical mean mug by whispering sweetly all the horrible things that might happen to you. John Carpenter keyboards accentuate one of the most blindsiding, truly deafening basslines the Atlanta trap scene has seen in a while. This song opens as quiet as most opening tracks do, muted through mixer filters, with Gucci Mane talking mean for about 15 seconds when all of a sudden the apocalypse is upon you. I’m almost ready to argue that Trap House III‘s existence is entirely justified by its opening title track, produced by Southside & TM88, both longtime curators of 1017 Brick Squad’s peculiar moral fiber.

Spotify gucci mane albums