I always thought he was about five foot three. And 100 pounds. Hey, wait a second…

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[6.38]

Chuck Eddy: Insane ramblings — a few of which I can even half make sense out of — about charisma, lasagna, llamas, Dramamine, segregation, synchronized swimmers, pachyderm penises, and other things, running out the mouth of a guy who sounds like he’s been saving it all up. And with much help from Harry Belafonte’s banana boat, it all adds up to one high-pitched perpetual motion machine.
[8]

Al Shipley: In the nearly 3 years since “A Milli”, Wayne has been content to let virtually everyone in the world copy it without trying himself. Now the inevitable attempt at a sequel, with the song’s producer and original guest MC in tow, is finally here, it can’t help but underwhelm. But considering Wayne’s artistic trajectory of late, it could’ve been much worse.
[4]

Martin Skidmore: Producer Bangladesh gives Wayne another huge beat, his best since their last time together on “A Milli”, but for me the “Banana Boat” quotes really irritate. It’s a shame: it took me a while to come around to Wayne’s loose rapping style, but I’m feeling it these days, and he’s very sharp on this. Possibly being young at a time when countless people referenced that old song in irritating and often racist ways means it bothers me more than the many much younger reviewers here — without that, I think this would strike me as a monster single.
[8]

Jer Fairall: Though that Harry Belafonte sample is loaded with history, I take its particular presence here as a reference to Beetlejuice, with Wayne playing the anarchic cartoon villain spinning his rococo funhouse projections for nothing more than his own demented, cackling amusement. The titular chorus locked into forced repetition by his possessed victims, he is freshly free to run amok once again, the chaos and absurdity he unleashes nevertheless dictated by his own perverse sense of internal logic, hence “I got through that sentence with a subject and a predicate.” Only the Cory Gunz verse is unnecessary. The best otherworldly pests all work alone.
[8]

Asher Steinberg: Basically Wayne’s first good rapping in a couple years; but marred by his weird, constipated voice, the annoying “Milli”-imitating sample and a seriously confused Cory Gunz, it fails to be anything more than a decent technical showcase.
[4]

Zach Lyon: It’s usually something of a delight listening closely to Weezy’s verses and unfolding each line. Also good? Interesting samples. You know what ruins it? When you take both of those elements and smash them together so violently that it all ends up as incomprehensible mush. Much respect for the individuals who can weather this without getting a headache.
[3]

Jonathan Bradley: After an ill-advised guitar album, a run of Autotune hits that had one of Autotune’s best ambassadors making the effect look as if it deserved the bad press, a succession of increasingly lazy rhymes, and then a prison sentence that seemed to bear out Weezy’s rambled critique of the US justice system at the end of The Carter III -— both for its uneven racial impact and because the speech was delivered while Wayne was clearly off his head on the same substance that got him put away — “6’7′” is a model for wiping clean the most soiled slate. This is Dwayne Carter in form as Mr. Peyton Manning flow (“I just go; no huddle”), walloping the “Banana Boat” beat with a torrent of off-the-wall wordplay, hashtagging par excellence (“two bitches at the same time, #SynchronizedSwimmers”)logic-defying similes (particularly the famed silent lasagna), and the same addled charisma that first won him our hearts. The F, if we might ever have doubted, truly is for phenomenal.
[9]

Alfred Soto: Best Wayne moment in months, and Cory Gunz keeps up. Slinging lines “Sleep is the cousin” over bass and percussive loop closer to garage than hip-hop, the two disappear into their own heads without going up their own asses.
[7]