But mostly the turf is familiar, and often disturbing. And the three bonus tracks are among the most adventurous on the album, with his vocals on two of them buried in digital processing that recalls the recent genre-melting work of Future. The decidedly weird “Laughin’ to the Bank,” with its ghoulish laughs - “I’m laughing to the bank like ha ha ha, I’m laughing at these lames like ha ha ha” - could have been a Dr. “Love Sosa” and “Hate Bein’ Sober” have insistent melodies that are brighter than anything he made on his own. “Finally Rich” has a couple of moments that suggest forward movement, though. Like those progenitors, Chief Keef has a narrow palette, a rigorous commitment to it and a reluctance - or inability - to change. Whatever demand there is for Chief Keef he generated it on his own, with his mixtapes, straight-to-YouTube videos and local hero status. But he’s also a child of Internet-driven cults of personality like Soulja Boy and Lil B, young rappers whose most meaningful fan interactions happened outside the label system. He’s an inheritor of several generations of Chicago gangster rap, and also of the drill music that’s saturated the city in the last three years. Typically his rhymes don’t get more inventive than “Hit him with that Cobra/Now that boy slumped over.” But his grip on youthful abandon is compelling - he makes menace sound fun. These mentions are the only indication of heart on this album, which barely rewards close listening. Chief Keef might not be much of a rapper - he’s clunky, monochromatic and sometimes outright awful - but he’s careful.

Finally rich mixtape chief keef