“No one can define you,” AZ says solemnly in his intro The truth must be told, his 10th studio album, over a sparse drum and angelic vocals that throb like a heartbeat. “The moment you allow them to define you, you allow them to become your God.” It's a fitting proclamation for the Brooklyn rapper, who, after spitting an iconic guest verse at the start of Nas' 1994 single “Life's a Bitch,” has spent the past three decades reaffirming why he was offered the position in the first place. His distinctive nasal tone, vivid storytelling and golden flow have inspired rappers from Joey Bada$$ and Rome Streetz to Rae Sremmurd's Slim Jxmmi. Not to mention he's one of the few ex-major executives who successfully broke free years before Roc Marciano and Griselda popularized the approach. Doe or Die II—the 2021 follow-up to his 1995 solo debut—doubled as both a victory lap after a 12-year gestation and a solid meat-and-potatoes rap album from an emcee who, at the time, had hit 50. Now approaching 52, AZ still brings that cognac memory to an easy chair The truth must be told, only this time, the ice has melted slightly and the stories are starting to run together.
Doe or Die II it was exciting as a showcase of AZ's impressive ability and perspective. The unhinged capo from the original had not only emerged from destitution, he'd outlived his demons, and the way that story juxtaposed with AZ's own rap journey helped the celebratory air feel earned. But while The truth must be told has some exciting moments, less substantive contemplation than its title suggests, and more wheel-spinning. These are either stories we've heard before or ideas he's executed with more gusto elsewhere. This is not to say that AZ has fallen completely. At its best, this Brooklyn muddle still grips, zipping through the contours of beats like a bucket with 150,000 miles on it. “Still Got It” and “The GOAT” are the sharpest examples: AZ goes full lock on the drums to talk about rising from park bench nights and finding his place in rap history between by Big Daddy Kane and Lil Wayne. But more often than usual, his flow gets a little slippery, derailing the momentum of some songs. And when that's paired with weaker storytelling and rehashed subject matter, like the bland paeans to black capitalism on “Don't Go Astray” or the SparkNotes career that's “One of the Greatest,” the illusion is shattered.
