But it’s good TV nevertheless.īorn William Roberts in 1976, Ross started rapping in his early twenties, with “Hustlin’”-then self-released-sparking a bidding war that landed him on Def Jam.
“Am I really just a narcissist/’Cause I wake up to a bowl of lobster bisque?” he asked on 2011’s “I Love My Bi***es.” Maybe. Even as he toned down the supervillainy, Ross remained larger than life, luxury incarnate. Few artists were as perceptive in capturing the genre’s turn toward new-money excess, the move from the streets-in Ross’ case, Carol City, Florida-to the exurbs, to cars that outprice helicopters and houses the size of airplane terminals.
When Rick Ross’ “Hustlin’” came out in early 2006, it almost seemed like a joke: How could you make something so gonzo and still keep a straight face? This wasn’t rap as lyricism or verbal documentary, it was rap as pro wrestling, summer blockbuster.
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