Now that the second disc of The Game’s new double-album, The Documentary 2 (and 2.5) is out, I have no choice but to conclude that Jayceon is in possession of incriminating photographs/videos/financial documents which he is using to blackmail the majority of his guests to appear. Hailed by some as the scrappy underdog who stood up to notorious rap bully 50 Cent in between stalking (and occasionally working with) his idol Dr. Dre, I would argue that he’s actually a professional Stan who may be a danger to himself and others.
His well-publicised back-story tells us that: ‘while recovering in the hospital from gunshot wounds he incurred in late 2001, Game told his brother to go out and buy all of the classic hip-hop albums.’ Apparently, this just meant The Chronic, Straight Outta Compton and a few bootleg Tupac CDs, as these formed the basis for his new-found rap persona (although he claims he ‘learned how to spit from It Was Written‘ on the DJ Premier-produced title track). To truly appreciate the stalkerish quality of Jayceon Taylor, consider some of his tattoos. In a series of increasingly unfortunate decisions, The Game has inked himself up with an assortment of logos (including Converse All Stars and N.W.A.), pictures of other men (Eazy-E, Tupac and Dre) and that butterfly on his face that quickly had covered up with a star.
The fallout following his dismissal from G-Unit for forgetting to send Lloyd Banks a birthday card or something resulted in a prolonged campaign against Curtis that carried with it all the venom of a woman scorned. G-Unot? That was the wittiest thing he could come up with? The unfortunate side-effect of this feud was that Dr. Dre was no longer able to work with him, which no doubt inflicted great emotional pain on Game as he now attempted to fill the hole left by his ‘absent father-figure.’ He’s also continued to stalk 50 on Twitter over the years, with numerous failed attempts to convince him to reunite the crew and let Game back on board, ‘for the fans.’ Amusingly, when G-Unit finally did return to the scene they recruited Kidd Kidd instead of inviting The Game to return, which must have really ground his gears, as they used to say.
There isn’t space here to clown every dumb move that he’s made, but this excerpt from Wikipedia is a prime example of the way that this guy operates: ‘In December 2012, The Game founded a new record label, Rolex Records along with rapper Stat Quo. Following its founding, he bought his entire team at the record label Rolex watches. After a six month legal battle with Rolex, he was forced to change the name and logo of the record label. He officially would then change the name of the label to The Firm. Which then became Blood Money Entertainment.’ So he bought a stack of their watches and they still sued him, since Rolex didn’t want their brand diminished by association? Damn, homie.
Listening to The Documentary 2, I’m amazed at how many big names were possibly ‘coerced’ into being involved – Nas, Kendrick Lamar, Q-Tip, Kanye West, will.i.am, Diddy, Lil Wayne, Scarface and Dr. Dre. Unfortunately, this results in an album that sounds more like a compilation featuring Game than his own project, or as I noted elsewhere, it resembles being on a road trip with your friend rapping loudly over the latest hits on the radio. This is most apparent on the tracks with Future, Kendrick, and Drake, as their styles all clash with The Game’s that he attempts to assimilate with their deliveries and comes off sounding like a poor imitation. He sounds far more comfortable with the likes of Ice Cube, DJ Quik and Snoop, doing his whole ‘classic west coast pride’ chest-beating schtick than trying to hang with the sensitive new kids on the block.
Not to say that it’s a total waste of time, as The Game can actually rap and there’s a certain quality to his wild-eyed fanaticism and incessant name-dropping that can be enjoyable. When he hits the mark with these celebrations of LA rap’s legacy, it’s a smooth ride. Where it goes wrong is that The Game lacks the self-confidence to bring his younger guests into his world, and instead falls over himself trying to swerve into their lane, resulting in some messy sonic pile-ups. Perhaps this was all just his attempt to complete Dre’s abandoned Detox project – I wouldn’t be at all surprised if several of these songs were originally recorded for that album.
Despite its heavy reliance on reheating classic nineties hip-hop loops, The Documentary 2 has enough quality material to make for a dope single LP, as yet again the act of hubris that is the double disc rap album has proven an over-ambitious mistake. And for all of The Game’s creepy obsessions and the huge chip that he still carries on his shoulder, the mere fact that he’s persevered this long is a testament to either his unyielding determination to get his name in the history books of Compton rap, or proof-positive that he’s a stone-cold sociopath that needs to be stopped by any means necessary before he starts a cult and orders a mass suicide pact on his Facebook page.
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