At the outset of Da Reality Show, Young Dro announces “Round 3.” That Young Dro has made it to his third album, nine years after the release of his first, Best Thang Smokin’, could itself be considered an accomplishment. He could have easily gone the way of so many one-hit wonders who made it big off the success of association with a superstar (in this case, T.I.), and a catchy radio jingle (“Shoulder Lean”). The question remains: is Da Reality Show worth tuning into?
The short answer is no. Da Reality Show is a mess of contradictions and uninspired braggadocio that fails to captivate.
The album starts off slowly. After the introductory “Black History,” Young Dro sounds poorly suited to current trends: he goes overboard with autotune on “Coupe” and is out of place shouting out rhymes a la Meek Mill on “We in Da City.”
It’s not until “Ugh,” with a tight flow and catchy hook, that Young Dro truly delivers.
AD LOADING...
He follows that up with the colorful braggadocio of “Parallel Park,” but things take a nosedive on the sonically cluttered “Power” and don’t pick back up until “Feelin’ Myself.”
The track is the best on the album, on which Young Dro celebrates his success but also takes himself to task to the laid back handclaps and subdued crooning of Candice Mims.“You a grown ass man, take the walk of shame, nigga/I will and I can, nigga/Get money, run the streets man I’m killing myself/Damn, I’m killing myself,” he waxes thoughtfully.
A heartfelt “Testimonial” sets up Young Dro’s “Hood Gospel,” on which he laments the violence and state of his ‘hood, and urban ills as a whole.
Da Reality Show’s ending is both a strength and weakness to the overall product. It, along with “Ugh” and “Parallel Park,” keep the album from falling completely flat, but it also contradicts much of the album.
AD LOADING...
Duality is a quality to be admired in hip hop. However, that none of Young Dro’s sentiments lamenting violence nor any show of self-examination were present during the first nine tracks of the album result in a very befuddling feel by album’s end.
In fact, Young Dro’s rhymes on “Hood Gospel” downright contradict the first three-fourths of the album.“Tired of wearing these polo clothes/Tired of talking ’bout these ices and busting niggas kicking in these doors.” It makes sense, then, that Young Dro sounds bored when rapping about his spoils on “Dead.” He goes from gun talk to sex talk to rapping about swimming pools, all in the span of a few aimless bars. “Broccoli, broccoli, broccoli, broccoli, broccoli, broccoli,” is the most memorable line of the song.
The production isn’t much better. With the exception of “Ugh,” and “Parallel Park,” only the soulful, low-key moments near the end really showcase musical brilliance. The rest are bombastic but tired, been-there, done-that southern beats.
With the last three tracks considered, it’s clear that Young Dro had more on his mind than money, women, and nice rides. Maybe the album would have been better served if he had rapped more from that perspective and made the braggadocio tracks the exception. As it stands, Da Reality Show is an exercise in contradiction, with not enough bright spots to eclipse the uninspired tunes that pervade the album.
