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G-Eazy comes from the wrong side of the tracks: for a rapper, that is. Raised in Berkeley, California by his art professor mother, the MC otherwise known as Gerald Gillum is a white college graduate, a set of handicaps that once would have had hip-hop purists running for the hills faster than you could say Vanilla Ice.
But we live in less doctrinaire times, and so G-Eazy has managed to storm to the top of the US charts with his third album, a confection of Drake-lite patter about attractive women succumbing to his charms set to moody mid-tempo beats: plausible enough in short doses, but a monotonous grind over the long run.
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