Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumber'd here
While these visions did appear.
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream,
Gentles, do not reprehend:
if you pardon, we will mend:
And, as I am an honest Puck,
If we have unearned luck
Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue,
We will make amends ere long;
Else the Puck a liar call;
So, good night unto you all.
Give me your hands, if we be friends,
And Robin shall restore amends.
First of all, he's right. Secondly, the distinction here is clear, and it's one that Lil Wayne has clearly given thought to: After all, "This Is Why I'm Hot," his example of a song that is hot and of the moment but not great, is the song that Wayne chose to open Da Drought 3. It's a song that he considers treating as a throwaway beat, he tells us, explaining, "this was supposed to be the intro, but um, I guess I'm gonna do what y'all here for." And then he does something that I would imagine nobody thought, on first listen, they came here for: He launches into a verse in Jamaican patois, clearing his throat to declare, "rasta dem king of da jungle / dreadlock swing! down me back like Rapunzel." It's such an unexpected decision, such a weird, not-serious way to prove his greatness, that it might seem like an odd feint to open the tape.Is it hard to meet those expectations when you record so much material and with so many different artists? Is it hard to maintain high standards? Some people say you're what makes those songs hot—
I'm what makes the song great. You can't play "This Is Why I'm Hot" on the radio right now. They gon' call up and be like, "What the hell is that?" [Sings the hook to last winter's ubiquitous hit from Mims] This is why… That's not hot. That's old. You can play "Tha Block Is Hot." Fuck my song. You can play Destiny's Child "Soldier"! You could do that. That's okay. You could play Lloyd's "You." Chris Brown. I don't make hot music. I make great music. If I make hot music, then I been on fire for a long fuckin' time. The flame is burning out, sweetheart. I'm not hot. I'm great.
Everything we already know about Wayne is quickly summoned up here, and, furthermore, everything we're about to see is laid out: Wayne will go on to make a "part two" of every hit he raps over on this tape, in many cases erasing all concept of the original song. Every bar will be quotable, for an entire fucking project. And best of all, in truly Puckish fashion, Wayne is laughing through all of it. Almost as soon as he's done crooning about all the rappers he's about to murder, he breaks abruptly into a jocular conversational tone. "And that is why I'm hot," he declares, gesturing back at what he just rapped, looping back around to the concept of greatness versus hotness, letting us know that the reason he's hot isn't because he made a cool song but because he just rapped something nobody could possibly imitate. "It's Da Drought 3," he says, explaining why that introduction was necessary, and then he sets it up as though he's letting us into his house, showing us to a party. "Welcome!" he cries. "Have fun."Welcome, have fun: We're in a universe now where cool rap singles don't exist; the only thing here is madcap ideas. We are in Wayne's crazy carnival, his wondrous bazaar of ideas. We left Mims at the door, and that's exactly the point. It's hot outside, and it's cool in here. Do you have any doubt that what we're about to experience is great?Follow Kyle Kramer on Twitter.Hip-hop is mine now, mine what you gon' do?
I can jump on any nigga's song and make a part two
Play time for me 'cause see to me they are cartoons
How come every joint be on point like a harpoon
How come every bar stand strong like a bar stool
How come every line so raw you gon' snort two