Trap Muzik is an album about “The Trap” – a literal location where the dealers deal, where the crackheads seek crack and where T.I. “makes a million” – and it is also a metaphorical concept, a psychological prison of limited opportunity. The Trap is the world to a dealer, the beginning and end of life for a young man with no future. The Trap is possibility, money, drugs, and ultimately death or imprisonment – an idea which takes on added resonance with T.I.’s recent sentence.
It’s really quite unfortunate that T.I.’s been sentenced to three years because Trap Muzik has become one of my favorite albums of 2003 – 16 tracks, nearly 70 minutes, but a surprisingly consistent album of funky southern hip-hop. Although David Banner, Kanye West and Jazze Pha show up for several joints, this album is really rooted in the vibrato-ringing organ and twanging-guitar sound of southern legends like UGK and Southernplayalistic-era Outkast. T.I.’s voice has this slurred, accented charisma that holds the album together; his lyrics are on point throughout. “Rubber Band Man,” as everyone probably realizes by now, is a brilliant David Banner-produced pop single – the horns, the children singing, and T.I.’s chorus - “Rubba Band Man, wile like the Taliban!” I love his accent! Southern comfort. “24s” is pretty cool, some aggressive crunk shit, although I often find it hilarious when rappers brag about how they buy clothes – not specific clothes, just sort of generally, “Cars and clothes.” (Like when the Big Tymers discussed how their cars had “head rests.” My mom’s volvo has head rests too.) Anyway, “Doin’ My Job” has some great sax-driven Kanye production, and T.I.’s voice molds perfectly around the beat – “we ain’t out here threatenin’ your lives, rapin’ your children/ we just out here stayin’ alive, makin’ a million.” His voice on this track is comforting, and on “I Still Luv You” it’s filled with empathic pangs of regret and inner-strength – “You prolly never knew, cuz hey I never said it/ But pops I’m jus like you, I’m stubborn and I’m hard-headed/ But now yer dead in the ground, don’t need me tellin’ you now, but all I wanted was for you to be proud.”
The last three songs in particular stick with me – there are no superstar producers on these tracks, just some funky guitar-and-organ meat-and-potatoes soul. “Kingofdasouth” comes up first, and T.I. claims his place on top with a laconic verse - “I’ll set the city on fire and you SEEN that shit.” And you believe him. “I’m the best thang left blowing breath on the mic.” Hot.
This is followed by the uplifting redemption of “Be Better than Me,” a “do-as-I-say-not-as-I-do” track that is wonderfully motivating – “shorty them streets ain’t the place to be/ I’m telling you cuz its too late for me / …So be BETTER than me!” “And don’t be buyin’ none of that bullshit that they sellin’ you shorty!” “Don’t be listenin’ to them dope boys in the trap.” And with this exclaimation, T.I. rejects the trap. He warns his charges to escape – there is no hope for them in the literal and psychological dead end dealing blow. “Cuz shorty its too late for me” – ominous words for a man on the verge of blowing up in hip-hop only to find himself imprisoned.
The final song on the album is the existential day-in-the-life drama of “Long Live Da Game.” It begins with the opening squeal of an organ, and mere seconds later T.I. rips through the track; his voice speeds up and slows down along with the pace of the song. He is driven by pure adrenaline, slows down to rest, increases his speed as the tension builds - and he arrives in the Trap intent on selling his product, only to find it “swarming with cops.” With a swift, echoing shot, the song ends abruptly. There is no hope for the future generations as on “Be Better than Me.” T.I. meets his own end in the Trap, a metaphorical end that unfortunately took on real-life connotations with his recent arrest.
But hey, they signed Shyne for a couple mil, and he’s in the clink til 2010. So there’s always hope. Trap Muzik is a truly beautiful album.