Tryin’ to freeze time, that’s why I ice the face of my watch” Love the night rain, found a new way to fight painĬlocks never stop, It’s all a race to the top Life change once you establish the right game Time ticks, devilish minds design tricks, leave you blind quickĬause you to die behind shit, Math-e-maticĪmazed with magic, cuz it’s illusions that made me savage It hurts to zone, now I realize I’m on this Earth alone Rockin’ birth stones, my first, get bent nurse the dome Marketin’ schemes, so many in the dark that’s unseenĬaught inbetween, perhaps rap was a fortunate thingįorced to be keen, from hustlin’, supportin’ them fiends Keep your vision focused, get wise, and largen your cream “Play the game for my people stay in charge of your dreams The album appropriately opens to a blues singer crooning “it’s a new dawn, it’s a new day, it’s a new life—for me.” But before you can sink too deep into retrospection, the soulful soothsayer is overrun by a foreboding beat and AZ is off: As De La Soul said “everybody cools off from being hot, it’s if you can take being cold or not.” With his sophomore release, “Pieces of a Man”, AZ poignantly picks up the shattered pieces of his dream and forges forward. But AZ remained soundly confident in his abilities and focused on his goal to reach the top. Rappers have abandoned their integrity for much less in this business. All this continual disappointment could break a man. Worse yet, AZ’s own highly anticipated debut “Doe or Die”, although widely held as a classic to its listeners, fell below sales expectations. A role he has been unable to shake ever since. But somehow in the album’s aftermath AZ became subsequently perceived as Nas’s sidekick instead of partner. Most sympathizers are familiar with AZ’s story of woe: the only guest rapper to grace Nas’s “Illmatic”, which some hail as the greatest rap album of all time. Even the great Gods of rap, languidly relaxing atop Mount Interscope, could not recreate a character more perfectly tailored for mass-market success. AZ just seems naturally endowed for this business.
It’s that AZ flaunts all the right ingredients: he’s business savvy, well-respected in the industry, street credited, skillful, and has patented a look for himself so fly it might drive Pretty Tony into a nervous buying binge for more tangerine-colored, fox fur snowcaps and obtrusive, animal insignia jewelry. It’s not just that AZ has paid his dues with interest, putting out four, near-classic solo albums and two group albums over only seven years, or the fact that his lyrical skills put most current rap stars to shame.
AZ deserves the swooning fans and flagrant, money tossing capabilities, not Jermaine Dupri, whose face looks like a mister potato head doll a three-year-old arranged in disarray. He practically has dollar signs seared into his baby-face forehead. AZ’s lack of wide-spread success remains inexplicable.
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