If you walked by my Canton house this past weekend, chances are better than good "Purple Swag" was blaring out of the living room. Harlem's ASAP Rocky has a steady-climbing buzz thanks to a small sample of woozy, drugged-out bangers. His songs have a bender quality — the low-end knocks off a listener's equilibrium, the slow vocals swirl the mind and Rocky's assured delivery somehow stabilizes the whole thing ... just enough. The white girl mouthing the lyrics (including an "N" word, while golds sit on her bottom row of teeth) and a "F--- SWAG" T-shirt are discussions best left to the hip-hop pundits who get off on that sort of thing. I'm too busy vibing out over here.
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