In case you somehow didn’t remember or didn’t read up, here’s some CliffsNotes: Slick Rick is that nigga. Always has been. In the off chance you did forget, he uses his new track “I Did That” to serve up a heavy-handed but sincere reminder. Flaunting all the imaginative flair of his own Wikipedia page, Rick uses the throwaway interlude to list his accomplishments in a series of undeniable one-note summations: “Icon fashionista. Storyteller. I did that.” It’s a collection of mic-drop cultural imprints from a figure who no longer needs to tell you. If Rick still did require an introduction, Victory, his first album in over 25 years, would do the job pretty well. Defined by wit, breezy soundscapes, and the same conversational agility that made him a legend nearly 40 years ago, the LP sees Slick Rick in cruise control of all his preternatural gifts. While there are some lame detours, it’s proof that, in spurts, he can still take you on an indelible journey.

Clocking in at 27 minutes, the Ruler’s latest is the trimmest album of his career. It might also be the most lighthearted. You can thank the sonic atmosphere for that. While exec producer Idris Elba didn’t technically make any of the beats on this one, it’s not hard to imagine house tracks like “Come On Let’s Go” and “Cuz I’m Here” floating in and out of the actor-DJ’s Serato. For “Come On Let’s Go,” Rick’s jumpy imagery is too busy for all his personality to seep into the pulsing beat. “Cuz I’m Here” corrects that particular issue as Rick unloads a juvenile tale of a would-be dancefloor link-up with a mix of humor and rhyme economy. The half-sung hook only enhances the endearing goofiness of it all.

When he’s not sliding over house tracks, he’s gliding over a mix of sounds from industrial jazz (“Stressed”) to sprightly yet sentimental boom bap (“Angelic”). For the latter, he revisits “La-Di-Da-Di” as he contemplates his space in the rap continuum. His acrobatic imagery layers an otherwise reflective track in subtle whimsy, with his twitchy syllables distilling reminiscences like a game of peekaboo: “Told ya ‘bout the bored, wanna see a brother sore/ Here you go/ Noah, hold this for ya, all ya’ll/ Jammin’ this Manhattan, Granny, I’m the man and/ Glad you understand that cat, your sandwiches were slamming.” Combined with the muted soundscape, it’s at once nostalgic and of the present — like a rap wizard amused that he’s still able to conjure some magic.

For “Landlords,” he trades warmth for biting humor, threatening delinquent tenants with his TEC-9 while making time to call out another for making his spot a smelly mess. The merry horns and Slick Rick’s spirited vocal performance make it feel like it could be a spiritual sequel to “Children’s Story”; in this follow-up, the former stick-up kid has somehow survived a gunshot wound only to face an even more terrible fate: having to pay rent in New York. Of course, it’s cruel, and people don’t fuck with landlords. But putting your opps on a T-Shirt isn’t exactly wholesome shit either, so I’ll let Ricky slide. Besides, his mix of dismissiveness, aggressiveness, and intermittent exasperation make it all genuinely hilarious.

There aren’t truly bad songs on Victory, but I have to put an emphasis on songs. The interludes here oscillate between self-serious and just flat-out shallow. In 2025, you’re not getting any points for quoting Mother Teresa. You’re losing them with shitty Matrix jokes. Those three interludes slow momentum between the tracks rather than building upon them, and when you throw in a flavorless intro with a long-since hackneyed Cape Fear sample, you’re looking at sizable levels of pure waste.

And yet there’s “Documents,” a Nas-assisted exercise in pristinely regal boom bap. Here, Ricky dives into a lucid 007 fantasy, swirling real-time images of a gallivanting hero who can save the day and take all your hoes while he’s at it. If Slick Rick is playing the literal James Bond, Nas is playing the rap one, grafting a casual cascade of supreme flexes onto a bed of elegant strings that could soundtrack a daydream. It’s all as stylish as it is skillful — spiritual through lines shared by two masters of their realm. And beyond.

Low-stakes and in control, Victory is the latest testament for a world that didn’t need a new one. Decades ago, Slick Rick showed he could walk on beats and, with a little magic, turn children’s stories into lore. And for the most part, he’s done it again. While Victory doesn’t scale the heights of his greatest works, there are still more than a few traces of a grand adventure — a whimsical bridge between ghetto fantasy and dreams actualized.

COLD AS ICE

ROAST ME

https://t.co/7Hr6cBCZYS pic.twitter.com/tG88Zxg9Hd

— Kenneth. J (@Theselfcareking) June 11, 2025