Gosh, who could Jay Dee possibly be…?

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[4.67]

Colin Small: Not to blacken the name of one of the greatest hip-hop producers of the last fifteen years or anything, but I’ve never been convinced that J Dilla’s beats were actually made for being rapped over. Danny rides the shimmering mechanical bull as best he can, but he still comes out with a severely bruised groin, not to mention severely bruised self-esteem. Plus, only the best songs ever made should state the name of their artists in the chorus; in any other case, its a death knell. If Detroit really wants to return, I suggest it leave Dilla in the Hall of Fame where he belongs.
[3]

Alfred Soto: Dilla delivers the beats — he always does. Here it’s a curlicue keyboard, thick bass, and percussion not out of place on a Boogie Down Productions record. Danny Brown does not deliver the flow though, unsure whether to accelerate to keep up or hang behind the beat. And the rhymes are butt.
[3]

Ramzi Awn: Breathes like a bong at a house party.  Brown lays it down like he knows what he wants, and doesn’t waste time on much else.  And the Bewitched vibe in the background doesn’t hurt either. 
[7]

Anthony Easton: There is a context here that I have no real understanding, and though there is an interesting line or two, and maybe some things to write about the implications of disaster tourism in Detroit, and some of the scratching is analog enough to be a little interesting, I want someone to write a convincing enough apologetic for another rap song with the theme of half forced fellatio.
[4]

Jonathan Bogart: The retro signifiers are lovely, Brown’s squirrelly flow is entertaining, the “Danny Brown… J Dilla” hook isn’t that obnoxious … it’s just too slight to accrete enough meaning around it as it seems to want to have.
[5]

Brad Shoup: Presented with a choice of twinkles and nu-metal bass scuzz, Danny goes crosswise on the low-end. It works, but only after he gets to the final threat.
[6]