![]() Many of Gibbs' lyrics on Piñata ride a line between pride in his own resilient hustle and ambivalence about what he did to succeed-maybe not guilt, but at least a concerted effort to confront his colder impulses. There's a deep awareness of how the embattled dealer from Gary has and hasn't changed on the way to becoming an L.A.-based enthusiast's favorite-renowned enough to get Scarface and Raekwon on his record, but for reasons that run deeper than just having famous co-signs. But his tendency to let the beat inspire certain facets of his writing has resulted in a record that, true to the underheard yet memory-stirring undercurrents of Madlib's production source material, is fueled by a certain kind of grown-man reflection. ![]() Piñata isn't a major lyrical departure from the last-real-gangsta-standing attitude that's kept Gibbs defiantly his own unfiltered self over the last five years. The question, then, isn't whether Gibbs and Madlib make a compatible match, but what that match winds up motivating Gibbs to say.
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