Chuck Eddy: He has a very rhythmic name, I’ll give him that.
Michaelangelo Matos: Did he get his name by appropriating some old person’s idea of what rappers call themselves? Probably no more than he got his sound by appropriating some old person’s idea of what rap sounds like: “basic” will do nicely here. Or maybe just “poky.”
Matt Cibula: I actually fell asleep listening to this. That can’t be good.
Martin Skidmore: There are real megastars (Diddy, Wayne, Luda) all over the remixes, which puzzles me a bit. He sounds a touch laboured, perhaps unavoidably so over what strikes me as a distinctly awkward beat. There are moments with a Soulja Boyish swagger, but mostly it feels held down by the strange rhythms, which still sound stilted even after several listens.
Rodney J. Greene: The best wild-assed,hard-headed knuck ’em, buck ’em fight-rap song since Crime Mob debuted. Waka Flocka’s raps are more memorable than expected or immediately evident, which I’ll put up to the semblance of narrative and his trap’s tendency to go hammy. More nimble, too, bouncing in different directions off of the few reference points provided by the stark beat, which doesn’t even enter until he’s been down, up, and in fear of falling again.
Al Shipley: The best argument for keeping Gucci Mane out of jail: every time he goes away, one of his worthless henchmen starts to get a buzz as his temporary replacement. And like OJ Da Juiceman, Waka is so loathe to pronounce half his consonants that I would’ve thought this song was titled “Olé Dewey.”