Jeezy has never lost his step, but he’s been inconsistent since 2008’s The Recession—I was someone to think so as I started levying importance on listening orders for new drops. However, on a quiet December, Jeezy released Snofall with DJ Drama; it felt like it invigorated Jeezy to focus harder to deliver something more profound with ample ruminations within and amongst flexes. It’s slightly the opposite with I Might Forgive… But I Don’t Forget, the ruminating is more introspective and adds more to this dense person we know as Jeezy. Unlike previous albums, Jeezy’s coming with high ferocity in a double album with no features (take that J.Cole). At 29 tracks and 87 minutes, Jeezy offers a more focused project that sees more reflections than flexes, further allowing us to get deep inside Jeezy’s person and mind to understand the trials and tribulations up to this point and the rewards from the positives. It isn’t perfect, especially with its slight bloatedness coming from tracks that modestly parallel, making the length feel overcooked. Unfortunately, it can be so with double albums, yet one inherent plus is the construction, “one for the fans, and one for me,” with the latter having the most significant impact.

I Might Forgive… But I Don’t Forget getting split into two adds value to how it maneuvers through varying content while retaining motifs that allow songs to connect despite some differences. It carries more thematic poignancy in the second half while being consistent, as the first half is minimally forgettable, with some tracks standing slightly parallel. So, as much as the idea of a completely solo Jeezy album is peak, yet it isn’t all sunshine and rainbows going about the flow of it slowly while having some redundancies, something Jeezy is doing, further bloating the album and playing with the pacing. Some of the subjects/themes Jeezy tackles are poverty, family, the grind of selling dope, and the betrayal at hand, flexing his excess, the latter of which sees Jeezy either acts humble or lambasts through successes and sees the joy in another healthy morning with “Shine On Me,” or flexing his continuing success on “No Complaining.” That first half has more flexes than the second, but within the blend—outside a few flex tracks—introspective Jeezy constantly hits. 

“No Complaining,” though sometimes humbling with its words, Jeezy uses it as a base to feel antiquated towards who he is today, even though he isn’t signing off on sales equivalent to Drake, someone he subtly sneaks disses the motions with which music becomes popular, and the history had behind it. That aside, Jeezy is reaffirming his talent and skills, which transcended like others, specifically his assimilation and thuggish charisma, and working alongside producers that bring character, especially the fluid choruses. These subtleties push the introspective tracks further, which in hindsight might make you (like it did me) would have been better with an album focused on this side of him. For Jeezy, introspection comes from the lyrics as the beats and flows remain on top, and his adlibs? “Forget about it.” Jokes aside, sometimes the tempo comes slow, and sometimes it’s heavy and loud, but it’s still authentically Jeezy, so when he sidesteps to some of these flex tracks, they aren’t as impressive unless you need some fresh nostalgia for Thursday nights.

The first half is looser and plays up production star power, unlike the second, which gets entirely produced by the legendary J.U.S.T.I.C.E League. The first half, or I Might Forgive, plays much toward notions of growth, like with “No Complaining” or “This Too Shall Pass,” where he raps about keeping that chin up and hopes high amidst the adversity, name-dropping situations he was attached to. Yet, with the flexing or secondary, but similar to are, by themselves solid and do what they were built for, not all got worked around the direction, with parallels in content like “Never Had A Bad Day In My Life” and “Couldn’t Lose If I Tried.” Produced by Ricky Polo (“Range Brothers” by Baby Keem & Kendrick Lamar) and CuBeatz, and then Ricky Polo by himself, respectively, their crisp Trap beats feel wasted as Jeezy rehashes excess and women and materialism, buoying his successful status and so on, which makes one feel like some of these tracks could have gotten condensed into a shorter album half that is there to give fans that hitmaker Jeezy, where identity is rarely lost. Unfortunately, they made the album go on for longer than expected.

Where But I Don’t Forget succeeds is the consistency in tone compared to I Might Forgive. I sat there replaying it from the start—“Delusional”—eventually seeing how much tenderness can get heard beneath Jeezy’s tough exterior. With songs like “Claim to Fame,” “Since Pac Died,” and “Never Been a Fan” bringing a formal acquiescence between Trap and boom-bap, it’s almost like getting sent back to the mid-2000s, where Jeezy excelled at getting his emotions across. His sound and cadence have more gripping you than the flexing of luxurious means. There is nothing wrong with it, as I’m a fan of it, but with the introspections that blend some flexing, having something more fluid to the flex can feel lost. It may be the cynic in me that has had to trek too many 80+ minute albums this year, and most haven’t offered an argument for it being that long—as much as a fan would want this influx so it never feels like you’re limited, it doesn’t always land. It makes listening to I Might Forgive… But I Don’t Forget more of a chore than it needs to be, especially with the core fan base Jeezy retains to this day. 

I remember not being one not to let it become an overbearing sense of checking off a list, which it can be, but not to the point where I’m left decrying its length full-heartedly. Both halves have strong starts and endings, but the second felt tighter with fewer moments of a detour to keep himself fresh and living amongst the plethora of stuff Jeezy has seen. It all culminates into one fantastic closer that keeps Jeezy’s money focused on the critical things while showcasing empathy for those he’s hurt and who have hurt him. “No Choice” focuses on the actions taken by Jeezy to find his success, considering the new age of Hip-Hop pushing out the older crowd. However, Jeezy wasn’t one to call an old head; his music didn’t keep up with the times, as he would go on to deliver the forgettable “I Do” in 2011. Yet, that isn’t quite the case here; it’s just more so many of these hits just feel like loosies put to remind us of his hunger and prowess to excel.

One surprise coming from both halves is Jeezy’s ingenuity in making a hit, especially as he comes up with one under the guise of a diss track to the masses—i.e., us critics who have been slightly sour on him cause of quality and relevancy. Jeezy raps on the opening track, “I might forgive (Yeah), but I don’t forget (Haha)/This dedicated to them n****s talking shit (Yeah)/They say he fallin’ off, he need another hit (Ayy)/His rap career’s done, he need another brick (Yeah, yeah),” showing his rightful hubris to make this album better than before by coming at it full force, and it excels despite its issues. It makes you appreciate the content Jeezy has given you, along with many new bangers like “I Might Forgive,” “My Name,” “Rewrite History,” “Trust No One,” “If I’m Being Honest,” “Claim to Fame,” “Never Been A Fan,” “Expectations,” and a few others, all while getting that same feeling that this could have been modestly shorter.

This new Jeezy album is excellent but could have been better if tightened up, but with what we get, I couldn’t recommend it more. It brings some quality beats, flows, and lyrics; it’s a beautiful synergy that bolster his craft more and gives us a hardened reminder of why we fans became so in the first place. Granted, you’ll see me replaying Trap Or Die more than this; I’m still going to be reminded of this album drop by Jeezy by having some songs on loop and stand there just yelling YEAAAAAAAAAAH.