You could call Future a terrible rapper and you probably would have a valid argument. Now who wants to give him his props as a great artist who has a better handle on melodies than most so-called dope rappers? He’s been freelancing his sound all year with sparse singles that’s been keeping Atlanta red-hot with dance fever, especially with the ode to Cuba’s fictitious pride and joy, “Tony Montana.”
While there’s no Drake for the Jessy Terrero-helmed video version, there’s a cocaine white Porsche, a bad ass boriqua, drug dealers and blood money. Not a bad consolation.