On the latest in a series of EPs, the unique Atlanta rapper creates his own cocoon in which to hone his craft.
In October of 2019, Atlanta rapper Grip released the album Snubnose, a concept record exploring the vicious cycles of poverty and gentrification associated with gun violence in the United States, told partially from the perspective of a handgun. As weighty as the subject is, Grip’s energetic flows and ear for kinetic beats ensured the album didn’t devolve into a TED Talk. Just under a year removed from his breakout project, Grip remains interested in the art of rapping without being shackled to a narrative. “I wanted to break the stigma that I’m just a great storyteller. That’s cool and all, but nigga, I rap,” he told DJBooth earlier this year. On PROBOSCIDEA, the second in a series of self-released EPs, Grip creates his own cocoon in which to hone his craft.
Even without an overarching story, the EP’s title shoehorns a loose theme in between the songs. The Proboscidea is a once-massive order of mammals that now has only one living representative: elephants. By taking the name, Grip marks himself as one-of-a-kind in a sea of rappers: “Proboscidea, yeah the route that we chose is similar, but my flow is sillier/Plus I hit the ground running so hard, if you tried this you’d probably explode your fibula,” he gloats on “Grip 3:16.” His nasal delivery and slant rhyme-heavy rapping style aren’t exactly novel, but his energy is magnetic. Listening to Grip rap in this environment is like watching a rising basketball star during the preseason; the stakes are lower but a good maneuver or jump shot can still turn an audience’s heads.
Grip uses the freedom of PROBOSCIDEA to vent some professional frustrations, chin-check his competition, and continue the autobiographical streak his raps have taken on since his last EP, HALO. He writes off labels who take meetings with him only to turn him down and reminiscences on nights crashing on his friend’s couches. On “LET EM KNOW,” he compares himself to Kevin Durant and scolds recording booth gangsters fronting for streams. For all the biographical details scattered across PROBOSCIDEA, Grip is at his most compelling when he’s crushing his opponent’s jugular with his microphone.
“Grip 3:16” is the EP’s undeniable highlight. Frequent collaborator Tu!, who produces the entire project, laces Grip and fellow Atlantans Kenny Mason and J.I.D with a fast-paced piano loop and drum track the trio proceeds to tear to shreds. All three rap in double-time, rattling personal tales and boasts at breakneck speeds like Super Saiyans zipping across the skyline. It’s almost enough to make you wish the three would release an EP together.
Grip’s energy is infectious, but not every bar lands. There’s a line about raping the rap game near the end of “LET ‘EM KNOW,” a metaphor that feels tacky and distasteful even by braggadocio standards. It’s the one moment on the project where Grip’s command of language leads him to the lowest common denominator, one that’s been played out since Pharoahe Monch dedicated an entire song to it at the turn of the millennium. On a project this short, the flaws stick out more.
Like HALO before it, PROBOSCIDEA is a feat of rap calisthenics. There are no grand statements or attempts to turn well-worn concepts on their heads. It’s a COVID-mandated stopgap on the path to Grip’s next major project. Either way, any rapper should hope to be as limber as Grip in their warm-up phase.
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