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Album
Review
Ray Cash - Cash On Delivery Finally, Another Good Crack Album! by: Malik Sinsear, for Entertainment
Well, first of all don’t worry about what Malik is thinking, and second of all, don’t be stupid, of course I don’t support no damn crack! I hate that shit. For the past 25 years I’ve personally witnessed it tear my community apart, fucking over a generation of my people. As far as Malik is concerned, Ronald Reagan couldn’t have died a more deserved slow and bumbling death for the shit him and George Bush Sr. border bunny-hopped into my community…ahem, allegedly. That said, this crack filled album is wonderful. I enjoyed it. With C.O.D., Ray Cash has solidified his spot on my upcoming part 2 of Who’s Got Next In Rap. And get this, he did it with crack! Not that new jiggy swagger crack either, but that late 80’s hot asphalt crack. Fiends Fiends Fiends and Dope Game may sound like generic crack songs, but Cash finds a way to make them feel fresher than a pair of ’87 Nike Cortez on the first day of a Brooklyn summer. On the regretless Fuck Amerikka, Ray, on the stand at his own trial (I’ma take a wild guess and say it’s for intent to distribute crack) tells the judge, “I’m sick of hearin’ ‘bout a war on drugs to stop crack, nothin’ but a war on a thug to lock up a black, we don’t own no boats, no planes, no trains, none of that, you brought it over here, now motherfucker, send it back.” Goddamn! A nigga would be bunking with Nasty Nate Mortenson for the next 15 to 30 if he spit such butane at a judge. But that kind of emotional rationalization is exactly what makes the Delivery work where all these recent nickel and diming crack albums have malfunctioned. Ray’s a hustler, but he’s justified why he is one to himself and will explain it to you if you give him a chance. On the best song of the set, Better Day featuring Beanie Sigel, Ray and Beans trade stories of past hardships their families have gone through and what ideas of hope they have for them tomorrow. All that’s missing is a Scarface verse for the shit to officially replace Lift Every Voice and Sing as the Negro National Anthem. I’m sure if James Weldon Johnson heard it, it would have made him pick his pen back up and refine a few lines in his piece...well, I'm pretty sure. Now, if you’ve seen Ray, don’t let the glasses and nerd aura that surrounds him fool you. He has created an album centered on the life of a street hustler through and through. From holding down the corner from sunup to sundown (Here I Stand), all the bullshit that goes on during that time (P.A.N. featuring Bun B and Pastor Troy), to the after hours strip club (Sex Appeal), through the argument with his chick when he finally gets home (She A G). Throughout Delivery, Cash reminds me of a young Bun B or Andre Benjamin. His lyrics take the same thing rapper A and B are talking about and flips them into gems you look forward to hear again and again. Add on his Lil' Wayne on his A game like flow and appreciation for the old school (Bumpin My Music featuring Scarface) and you've got yourself an MC of merit. I sinsearly hope the world doesn’t allow Ray to fall through the same cracks Bun and 'Dre fell through for six to ten years before they got their due. ''Twould be a shame.
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FIYA NBA Ranks: #9 |
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Can
you remember the last time you heard a good crack record--like
12 solid cuts of that cooked raw? I sure as hell can’t
and maybe that’s the reason I’m
so excited to tell you about Ray Cash and his debut album, Cash
On Delivery. Now, I know what you’re thinking; you’re
thinking, “Malik, for the love of God, are you supporting
crack?”