Weed is like McDonald's: You start out hyped to indulge in your favorite treat, and two hours later, you're stuffed, barely conscious and dehydrated. His beats swirled and undulated. They were dizzy, buzzy and fuzzy. His debut, A Kid Named Cudi , was massive. He sprinkled in little gems you could find if you — ahem — played his music and concentrated hard enough.
I need to smoke. His music moved at a smoked-an-hour-ago pace. It was in no rush. It was unlike anything we had ever heard, yet it was easily digestible. Soon, he had been tapped by Yeezus, and he had become a useful disciple. For a while, Cudi dominated the hook game. He anchored "Gorgeous," bolstered the G. Friday mixtapes and bounced along on "Already Home.
His deep voice wavered in the auto-tune like another instrument. He was one of the first rappers to use the effect well, and he paved the way for it to characterize modern music instead of passing out of our public conscious with T-Pain. His lazy sing-song flow was the Pikachu to Young Thug's Raichu. He had the ear. He flipped the power ballad, "The Funeral," into a soft repentance on "The Prayer. But, at the same time, Cudi fell into darker realms; loneliness and alienation were common themes.
The classic angst of "nobody understands me" saturated his sound. And, at first, we loved it. Man on the Moon: End of the Day was the first foray into the post- s hip-hop landscape. Rager wasn't quite as fire. Rager" was the other single, and there just wasn't a ton to it; it is borderline boring.
The album eventually went gold, but it was more because of the strength of his prior work than anything. Nonetheless, it was a novel combination of psychedelic rock, electro and hip-hop that kept our attention. Then, his sound tilted in the wrong direction. I smoked weed until my once-abundant job opportunities disappeared.
I smoked weed until I lost the ability to write itself. I was broke, unemployed, and depressed. But I kept smoking weed. The world finally catches up with alternative artist Johnny Drille. He breaks down his journey for Audiomack World. But it was impossible to imagine a life without weed. My brain had developed under its influence. How else could I go out to eat? Watch movies?
Have sex? Hang out? Endure life? Besides, all the music I liked celebrated excessive weed smoking. No one was open about quitting weed or even having a problem with it. In late , Gucci Mane was released from prison.
He then embarked on one of the most remarkable second acts in musical history, defined mostly by his sobriety—not just from lean, but from weed as well.
Around the same time, I began noticing something in hip-hop. The more I studied the game, the more I realized that an epic lie had been bagged, weighed, sold to me—and I inhaled happily. I got sober in September In the time after I quit weed, I compulsively did coke, different psychedelics, and drank daily, before relapsing on weed and sobering up again.
I got my first real job, nourished a savings account, made amends as best I could to my ex-girlfriend and friends, and healed my brain enough to begin writing again. But I try my best to live right nowadays. I even made a song of my own about weed addiction. It portrays the beginning of the end.
Wayne was a drug addict who was successful despite his addictions. Wayne is an indisputable GOAT, but with his demons came bad business, creative degradation, and physical wear. Gucci Mane, now the picture of sobriety, has only gotten better with age.
I did the wrong things for so long. I watched as the desire to get high destroyed the lives of my friends and threatened to destroy mine. You can banish it for a time, forestall its advance. And one day it just might win the war. But I can at least say that I tried. In the end, I did. One can only hope that one day, we will achieve world peace.
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