I suppose he is, really…

[Video][Myspace]
[5.44]

Mallory O’Donnell: Rick Ross has his style and he’s hangin’ on to it like a lifeline. One day this gradually attenuating thread will snap, but at the moment he just sort of blends in to the landscape. Except for that line about “penatratin’,” which is inexcusably offensive.
[4]

Chuck Eddy: Wait, did they really say “I got that Archie Bunker”?? No idea what that’s supposed to mean, but at least it made me take notice. Googled Larry Hoover, too – interesting story! None of which makes this any less oafish or oppressive.
[3]

Alfred Soto: The immobility of the backing track allows Rick to drop, at leisure, references to Archie Bunker, the Pledge of Allegiance, and the catchphrase I’ve been repeating for two weeks (I THINK I’M BIG MEECH). So leisurely, in fact, that he sounds like could intone forever.
[8]

Tal Rosenberg: Can I rate this song in boats? If so, then my rating is “yacht.” ROZAY, THAT’S MY NICKNAME!
[8]

Martin Skidmore: The producer on this is apparently Lex Luger: I really hope it’s the ex-wrestler, but I don’t suppose it is. Ross always needs a great production, as he isn’t a particularly terrific rapper: this is darkly atmospheric, but may not have the impetus needed to cover Ross’s dull flow and rhymes. A slow number needs something more inventive in flow or lyrics, so this doesn’t quite come off.
[5]

Renato Pagnani: It’s fitting that the person who produced this lumbering villain of a beat calls himself Lex Luger, after the old WWE and WCW wrestler once known as the Narcissist. The track is a circle of mirrors as tall as skyscrapers, all turned inwards at the Godzilla-sized Rick Ross, whose blood is a mixture of rosé wine and cocaine, his physical frame composed of boasts that grow more fantastical by the minute. But what is refracted is not Rick Ross himself, but projections of what he imagines himself to be: Larry Hoover, Big Meech, a rap deity made out of only the most brilliant of diamonds. To view this directly would likely blind, which is why Styles P is the protective eyewear in the equation, dragging Ross back down to earth, instead of claiming to “get money from the fucking stars” making more grounded — and in comparison to Ross, whose ties to this world have long since eroded, grounded in reality — claims, like possessing “guns from Red Dead Redemption.” Rap as wish-fulfillment rarely is both this preposterous and tangible.
[7]

Al Shipley: Whether it’s with him or at him, laughing is really the best case scenario reaction to get out of a Rick Ross song. And to that end, this is at least pretty goofy. But if you take away the catchphrase, it’s a monotonous, generic banger that just gets bonus points for having a good guest rapper.
[5]

Jonathan Bradley: Notice how much more lively the track becomes when Styles P takes the mic? He pushes against the beat, allowing its explosive force to hit harder by working his voice in tandem with the rhythm. Too bad it’s not his song. Leading man Rick Ross no longer raps like the fat kid forced by his P.E. teacher to run laps, but superior breath control can’t prevent him from sounding irredeemably dull. If you want a picture of the future of Ross’s career, imagine a sock filled with lard flailing against a human face — forever.
[3]

Jonathan Bogart: If it weren’t for Styles P’s verse it would sound like a mixtape track — a good one, Ross growling like a patient Jabba the Hut at the center of a spiderweb of money and self-regard, but tossed-off and spare nonetheless. As a single, I’m not so sure. No one can be expecting this to do anything commercially; but it’s not like anyone who will hear it would complain.
[6]