Finally Rich

Production from the likes of Young Chop, Mike Will Made It, and Lex Luger propel Finally Rich since it's evident that Chief Keef cares just as much about precise lyricism as he does about keeping the peace on the Southside of Chicago. [Feb-Mar 2013, p.91]

A hardened, firsthand account of the preordained dire straits of the American underclass, and Waka Flocka Flame-indebted boast talk minus the charisma.

Most poeple probably have those two tracks ["Love Sosa" and "I Don't Like"], and there isn't anything else on here that warrants buying this or taking the time to find a torrent of it.

It's distressing, elementary and samey yet utterly unignorable.

Portentous, monochrome synths, staccato beats and torpid tempos provide a backdrop of cheap grandeur; Keef doesn't so much ride the beat as pace suspiciously alongside it (sometimes, it's more like plodding).

Rapping with his affectless slur and bricklayer's tempo over rolling, mid-speed beats, Keef (who was criticized for mocking a murder victim, his rival, on Twitter) seems unshakably confident but profoundly directionless.

He's proven he can assimilate into the world of mainstream rap while still retaining his singularity.

No amount of street cred can make up for this mostly middling, only intermittently marvellous record.

There's also a joyless and dispiriting quality to the music, something soul crushing in how the most backward elements of rap culture have coalesced into one hardened teenager.

Keef is a remote presence on his major-label debut.

When Finally Rich works (and it often does), it's thanks to everyone other than Chief Keef.

Finally Rich benefits from some professional tweaks in the mix, but otherwise leaves Keef's sound untouched. And in addition to succeeding on its own terms, it proves that Keef has a lot of potential-- much more than his detractors might have hoped.

On Finally Rich he continues to execute a his niche sound, and at a high level.

Ultimately, Finally Rich exposes the limits of Keef's chosen lane and, worse, doesn't point toward a more optimal route.

Though French Montana fits well on "Diamonds," his presence distracts from the youngster's appeal with similarly dull results stemming from rivals Young Jeezy & Rick Ross on "Understand Me" and an updated "3Hunna" respectively. These flaws along with the senseless experimental delivery of "Laughin' To The Bank" water down an otherwise exciting listen for anyone willing to humor Keef's madness.