Jim Jones

With his latest mixtape, “Harlem’s American Gangster,” rapper Jim Jones attempts to present a depiction of Harlem street life as only a native of Harlem could do. Unfortunately, Jones fails, offering instead the conventional definition of gangsta rap that the naïve have come to accept and the knowledgeable have begun to ignore.

Released on February 19th, “Harlem’s American Gangster” was not compiled as a bona fide album but as a mixtape in response to Brooklyn-born Jay-Z and his 2007 album “American Gangster.” Hosted by Hova’s ex-partner in crime, Damon Dash, the mixtape represents a continuation of the beef between the two hip-hop moguls with Jim Jones serving as Dame’s proxy.

Ironically enough, in the realm of rap, where Jay-Z is generally considered the king (his kingdom havin­g—ahem—come), Jim Jones is a jester at best. In terms of lyrical ability and rhythmic prowess, Jones is not Jigga, nor is he Nas, Lil’ Wayne, or even my drunk aunt attempting a freestyle (true story). Jim Jones is, however, a man of the Harlem streets. So this mixtape derives its drama both from the claim that a Brooklyn rapper could never do justice to the realities of the Harlem streets and the implication that Jones can.

Yet what we find in the tracks of this mixtape is not a window into the world of an American gangster from Harlem but a rehashing of trite gangsta-isms that anyone with a copy of the film “Boyz n the Hood” could have easily conjured.

Each track vaguely covers all of the following topics: selling crack, making money, snorting coke, getting hoes, and of course, ballin’ in a fly car. The worst part is that Jones doesn’t even take the time to represent these topics in different ways. He uses a variation of the phrase “fast cars, fast money, and fly bitches” in the tracks “Lifestyle,” “Byrd Gang Money,” and “Love Me No More.”

This is not to say that the mixtape doesn’t offer some enjoyable tracks. Fans of Jones’s massive hit “We Fly High” might appreciate his references to the song on the tracks “Byrd Gang Money” and “Stay Ballin’.” The chorus of “Love Me No More” is endearingly strained, providing one of the few moments of what feels like true Harlem thug desperation. Jones even manages to change up his style a bit with the track “Lookin’ At The Game,” which features an airy, monotone, female-voiced chorus and an exceptional record-scratching-based beat. With tracks like these, there is no denying that “Harlem’s American Gangster” is an entertaining if not vital listen. But as a statement on Harlem street life, it falls short.

Perhaps Jim Jones doesn’t have the rap skills necessary to effectively take the standard “gangster experience” (if such a thing even exists) and present it in a way that is uniquely Harlem. Regardless of his lyrical abilities, Jones has done nothing to alter or add to hip-hop discourse, and has once again proven his status as a jester in a kingdom where a rapper from Brooklyn reigns.