Ross worked steadily throughout the 2010s, easing into a more reflective version of his persona-in 2018, he’d ended up on life support after collapsing in his home-without sacrificing any of his outsized grandeur. By 2009, he’d started the Maybach Music Group, following the rapper-to-boardroom path paved by artists like JAY-Z and Birdman by 2010’s Teflon Don, his skills as had caught up to his vision. In 2008, his brief past as a corrections officer-18 months, starting at age 19-surfaced, loading new coals on the ever-ongoing conversation about biography and authenticity in rap. 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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