One wants nothing more than to give Cardi B the benefit of the doubt after the infiltration of “Bodak Yellow” into all of our lives in 2017 (especially if you were in New York City at one particular moment). But it’s hard to do that upon hearing the entirety of Invasion of Privacy after the level of anticipation built up around Cardi B’s debut. Or, then again, even if there was no hype surrounding it, for this is, quite simply, stripperoke. Cardi may be a story of “the stripper done good,” but based on this album, one would almost prefer to see her dance as opposed to hear her rap.
Looking like a combination of Supa Dupa Fly Missy Elliott and Cheryl James a.k.a. Salt of Salt-N-Pepa on the cover of her first real foray into the music industry, Cardi does neither of these women much justice with her sonic choices. There’s actually a moment on “Bickenhead” (yes, a spastic wink to Project Pat) where she simply regurgitates the old nursery rhyme, “Knick-knack paddywhack, give the dog a bone” (granted, Ludacris once did the same with “How Low”)–making it extremely difficult to perform the request of the idiom when she’s resorting to such lyrical faux pas. That, and once again, her “mystical” language being at its peak unknowableness with the very word “bickenhead,” a reference to a chickenhead and the age-old Blood tradition of replacing Cs with Bs.
To cushion some of the blow of the first three tracks’ non-listenability (it’s really not even worth mentioning “Get Up 10” and “Drip” featuring Migos–who already shamed himself long ago with a Katy Perry duet), there is “Bodak Yellow” and the recently released “Be Careful” in between.
Chance the Rapper then tries to jump in to help with “Best Life” as Cardi B goes about her usual modus operandi of screaming her name at some point (she might even top DJ Khaled with that repetitive shit) and talking about how everyone hates her because they’re jealous of what she can buy. But at least she’s really up on her Italian history, name checking “Makaveli” (a.k.a. Machiavelli), Pompeii and, who else, Dante.
Cardi B then further relies on aid from others to make her music palatable as she samples from the OG boogaloo song “I Like It Like That” by Pete Rodriguez on her “own” “I Like It” featuring Bad Bunny and J Balvin. Once again wielding her one-trick pony narrative, “highlights” from the “song” include, “I like texts from my exes/When they want a second chance/I like proving niggas wrong/I do what they say I can’t/They call me Cardi Bardi, banging body.”
Hitting her Nicki Minaj emulative stride on “Ring”–in large part thanks to Kehlani, who naturally owns the spotlight–Cardi B’s wounded ego serves as the focus of a story summed up by the Kehlani delivered chorus, “You don’t hit my line no more, oh, oh/You don’t make it ring, ring, ring, ring/I can’t keep this on the low/I want you to make it ring, ring, ring, ring.”
“Money Bag” picks up the pace even more than usual, a backbeat produced by J. White Did It that salvages the unfortunate vocals of Cardi as she shouts, “Lookin’ like money bag, money bag, money bag, uh/Money bag, money bag, money bag, yeah/Money bag, money bag, money bag, woo/(Money bag, money bag, money bag.” Yes, all it takes is two words continually recast and a few ambient beats to create something of the modern “rap/hip hop” genre.
Another single we’ve already heard too much of apart from “Bodak Yellow,” “Bartier Cardi,” compounded in badness by the video that was released to accompany it this past week, makes the album feel even more skippable as we move on to “She Bad” featuring YG. As if the redundant intro (which could perhaps make you turn retarded from excessive listening) wasn’t offensive enough to one’s intelligence–just imagine “dat ass” being chanted like a drooling mantra–Cardi further contributes to the exorbitant reiterations of the same exact themes as she brags, “See my ex, he still love me (ha), new nigga ‘gon kill for me (yeah)/All my chains got diamonds in it (bling), my account got commas in it (cash).”
Possibly the most redeemable track on the album, “Thru Your Phone,” finds, once again, its inspiration from Nicki Minaj, with echoes of “The Crying Game” and “Pills N Potions” notable throughout (unfortunately for Cardi, this is all owed to vocals from Ali Tamposi). Like “Be Careful,” the song is relatable for its vulnerability as Cardi speaks of a cheating boyfriend (same as in the aforementioned single), expressing, “I went through your phone last night/Saw some things I didn’t like/I went through your phone last night/It’s killing me, killing me, killing me, oh.” And, bringing Beyoncé’s name into the record for roughly the third time, possibly because Cardi wants so badly to achieve that level of legitimacy, she also mentions listening to “‘Resentment’ on repeat.” Well, at least she somewhat acknowledges her issues with tautology.
And as the album closes with “I Do” featuring SZA, Cardi is sure to bring her class insecurities into the motif as she does with “Bodak Yellow,” mocking, “I think you broke hoes need to get a job (get a job)/Now I’m a boss, I write my own name on the checks (Cardi).” Yes, everyone else is a worker who can’t afford the “red bottoms” or “boss bitch shoes” of which you are forced to speak of because hip hop is not about anything positive anymore so much as one giant commercial for unaffordable labels, with the associated superfluity to match an advertisement that someone was way overpaid to create.
Honestly, how many times can you spit out your name and accusations of being hated on by others as a means of musical “creativity”? Or worse, touting the inner monologue of your false ego with: “Pussy so good, I say my own name during sex.” For perspective, one can at least overemphasize (Cardi B’s favorite thing) that this is a product of a Trump presidency, which we can all only hope that we’ll look back on as a horrid dip in the quality of artistic output based on Invasion of Privacy and Roseanne alone.
