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Everybody Looking by Gucci Mane

Gucci always talked shit much. His ridiculous raps were on the verge of parody and macho bravado. His albums resemble paperback novels: they can be too tough, too straight-forward, too dumb even, but when they hit a nerve, they really touch something inside you and bring this not-really-art to fantastically high level of artistry.
This new album was written during six days - Dostoevsky once wrote his books with the same speed, but he had debts - Gucci, it seems, doesn’t, and FMD was on the death row once - Gucci wasn’t (it’s not that he needs to follow the great Fyodor’s steps), just in the Feds. Maybe for the first time Gucci begins to doubt himself and his way of living. He’s not just praising himself - for the 100th time - but thinks of his progeny and his partners in crime (Zay and Mike-Will-Made-It). Gucci didn’t lose a step, he started to pay attention to where he’s stepping.
After a few not really memorable mixtapes the new album shines. Gucci really out did ya - 99% of rappers recording music. Hard to say how it happened but the best music in 2016 was written by people fresh out of prison. Some joker’d say that they put something in the water in the Feds. Some cynic’d say that convicts have nothing better to do in prison than write songs in their heads. I’d say it is the law: only under enormous pressure and stress the artistic mind begins to craft the hardest stories and brilliant forms to put these stories into. And it is unfortunate that ugly environment gives birth to the beautiful things like this album. Everyone should be looking at Gucci.