It’s fitting RTJ’s website crashed upon RTJ3’s release, considering that’s what happened to the country after the election. RTJ2 was the sound of fury incarnate; RTJ3 is the sound of paranoid, what-the-fuck-happens-now chaos. El’s production casts a seasick specter over the proceedings with an eerie haze of pulsing, twitching, and seething molotov cocktails whose gravity might pull them apart at any moment. That said, RTJ3 is also further proof El and Mike are the best (and funniest) shit-talkers in the game: “Physical fitness/ Bitch, we run this/ Paraplegics, you don’t run shit”. No record is more essential in 2016.
Ya got no flow, call you MC Ebb.
You ship gold – call your plaques pyrite.