Has a rapper ever cared than ? For 15 years the San Francisco native has coasted on melodic G-funk beats—courtesy of either or one of Cardo’s many imitators—adorning them with autopilot rhymes and the most tedious ad-libs (“ !” “ !” “ !”) known to man. June cruises along on instinct, his casual affect reflecting his producers’ languid tempos. His penchant for luxuries great and small, Supras and smoothies, lends him something of an everyman quality, but even that’s contradicted by his insipid hustle-culture mantras.
When he breaks into motivational platitudes (“ !”), you find yourself bracing for an Herbalife pitch. (who else would he be doing it for?) assembles the usual roster of A-list producers: , Cookin Soul, and Jose Rios are all aboard. It’s some of the best music June’s compiled to date, further exposing his lackadaisical tendencies.
“Magnum P.I.” weaves a fuzzy guitar, winding bassline, and purring synth into a lush, suggestive wash; June arrives in a Rolls-Royce sipping jasmine tea and clocks out in under two minutes.
He’s here solely to fill space: “I’m all on FaceTime wit’ her, I’m kinda feelin’ this bitch/I love how that bitch talk, it’s so appealin’ and shit.” Anyone else would’ve considered this a reference track. Plenty of rappers owe their success to proximity, to being in the room whenever a great beat came on: Mack 10, Le$, any number of L.
A. County weed-carriers who lucked into Battlecat tracks. ( can�.