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Music

A Year of Lil Wayne: Nicki Minaj's "Only"

Two years after its release, so much has changed. Let's look back on what for now is the final work of Young Money's crown triumvirate.

Day 40: "Only" – Nicki Minaj feat. Chris Brown, Drake, and Lil Wayne, The Pinkprint, 2014

My apologies to the Barbies for not realizing until after I'd posted​ that yesterday marked two years since the release of "Only," the monumental Nicki Minaj, Drake, and Lil Wayne posse cut that defined a moment and—well, so much has happened since then. Two years ago Drake was lusting after Nicki on record to an uncomfortable degree; these days he's powering his career based on the promo he got from handily dispatching her boyfriend in a horribly lopsided feud​ (seriously, how is Drake still rapping about how much revenge he needs to get on everyone? He's the most popular artist in the world!). This is, for the foreseeable future, probably the last meeting of Young Money's king and queen we're going to get on record, particularly since Wayne, the centerpiece who we would theoretically need on the track for diplomacy's sake, isn't getting anywhere near a Drake and Nicki track while he's still deeply enmeshed in his Cash Money lawsuit​.

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So this is a historic document, and, fortunately, a great song for the most dominant creative triumvirate of the last near-decade to go out on. Chris Brown is used effectively and anonymously, and all three rappers bring some standout work. Sure, Drake spends most of his verse fantasizing about Nicki in a way that almost makes you wonder why she let him on the track, but it's also one of his most satisfyingly rhythmic and loosest verses. The way he pulls up on the beat when talking about how he likes his women BBW is a great example of the way less is often more in a rap verse. His line where he says "you the man in the city when the mayor fuck with you, the NBA players fuck with you, the badass bitches doing makeup and hair fuck with you" is one of his best ever—casually on beat and rhyming in a way that at first seems way off beat and not rhymed at all, while also effortlessly making you consider just how famous Drake really is. These days he's too busy sounding paranoid and rubbing in his success​ to drop a boast that actually feels so impressive.

Nicki, meanwhile, dominates the song through and through, whether it's with the perfect whiplash-inducing, shout-along metacommentary for a punchline about duct tape or her simple declaration opening the song, "I never fucked Wayne, I never fucked Drake, all my life man, fuck's sake." It's a strong rebuke not only because its exasperated tone is a clear message to sexist fans sure that she slept her way into her deal but also because, from a purely self-contained perspective in the song, it totally robs Drake and Wayne's lasciviousness of its power, giving their best efforts at aggressive come-ons the weight of wacky jokes. Maybe it still makes you uncomfortable to hear Drake and Wayne rapping about fucking her, and that's totally fair, but when you hear that she would make them eat her ass like a cupcake and consider the structure of the song, it's hard not to conclude that Nicki had a very pointed vision for the song as a statement. She wanted Wayne and Drake to play the role of hyperconfident second fiddles, and they happily did it, recognizing that the song was a venue for all of them to shine. I mean, the song is too fucking awesome for you to not want to read it that way and let yourself enjoy it.

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After all, you get this Wayne verse, which by itself should lay to rest the fiction that Wayne has fallen off, even if it is a little jarring to hear him say "she act like she need dick in her life," about his protégée. But Wayne tears into this verse with layers and layers of punchlines, multiple mind-bending flows, and a casual attitude about the whole thing that makes you totally ignore the fact that people aren't supposed to rap like this on a smash hit song. You can't just pull out an unwieldy piece like "my story is how I went from poor me to police pouring me a drink and celebrating with me" in a pop song and have it fit, can you? Welllllll, you can if you're Wayne. If you're Wayne you're expected to swoop in and say something like "that money talk I just rephrase it" in the middle of a bar, as if a line like that wouldn't singlehandedly make the career of a new artist.

That's because, of course, Wayne is, as he says, a prophet, a religious icon. Oh, you missed that part? Well, let's not ignore the cleverness of the most iconic line here, which—say it with me now, it's my favorite Wayne move—hides the grandiosity of its boast in another brag: "I'm from Hollygrove, the Holy Mecca." Wayne's neighborhood isn't just a place he reps, although he does that, too. It's also a pilgrimage site, the holiest city, because Wayne is rap's holy figure. This part has the least complex flow of his verse, so it's a line you might write off as coming from a lesser talent, but that's exactly why Wayne is so good: His best bars are disarmingly simple. A bit like the wisdom of religious texts, if you ask me. As the song goes, real prophets only. Let's venerate this one.

​Side note: For those keeping track in the Ray Charles punch line counter​, we've got another here, in, "Nigga now you see me, nigga now you don't / like Jamie Foxx acting like Ray Charles." Ding ding ding, add a point!

​Follow Kyle Kramer on Twitter​.