I first heard G Perico come up in a conversation about Action Bronson. Years later, I still say they’re both innocent: Bam Bam didn’t bite Ghostface any more than G Perico is doing an Eazy-E impression. Both comparisons are inevitable, I get it, but I’m not signing any petitions to kick them out of the Official Real Hip Hop Academy, now or ever. Hardly anyone is here because they were invited; some clubs you have to break into. Especially if you’re an Adidas-Albanian.
Unlike a majority of our modern drug rap celebrities, G Perico is exactly the retired Crip he makes himself out to be. More importantly, he’s a businessman with a reliable product. His spin on G-Funk is always dope, unpredictably weird, and extremely funny. In the tradition of Suga Free, who could fuck up a grown man’s life with a single bar, Perico’s beefs & brags are hyper-detailed, technicolor 4K cinema. Most of the people I have hipped to his catalog didn’t like him at first, the same reaction I so often see for Bruiser Wolf, Boldy James or RXKNephew. True greatness is often a system shock.
Of course, that same consistency also means that every track washes by like the one before it, right? The formula can only be so compelling, but between the charisma & the humor, “Troll Patrol” is exemplary craftsmanship. All rappers talk shit but few of us can do it effectively. G Perico may not be internationally ranked yet, but he is a Grandmaster just the same. “If I gotta wear a rubber, I don’t want it. I’m exclusive.” Turn the music down and focus your ears out West to Mission Hills, and you can almost hear Jerry Heller trying to claw his way out of Eden Memorial so he can sign this kid to Ruthless.
I admire the animal purity of artists who can nail a single formula and stick to it for their entire career. At no point in the legendary saga of Ill Bill did that dude contemplate re-inventing himself. Feral genius like that doesn’t need to evolve or grow in any meaningful sense, it only needs to exist like a Platonic ideal. That’s the “effortless” part of mastery; the rest of us have to keep hitting the gym. Even then, maybe leave all that David Bowie shit to the pop stars & rock whores. Focus on perfecting yourself as you are.
No clue why the fuck this man is flossing in a Bruins jersey, but I do respect it.
“Billion dollar brain, hundred thousand dollar chain.” Lyrical-ass Official Real Hip Hop Academy rappers cringe at bars like this, but that’s because they love their word games more than they love this genre. G Perico loves this genre, he loves being a rapper, and he loves living his life. It’s a beautiful thing to see. Four Dickies.
