In 2018, there seemed to be this feeling of being on the break of true greatness and one of those initial separating moments came with Supreme Blientele. A 16 track, near 50-minute project that secretly has some of Gunn’s absolute best tracks.
Starting off with “Dean Malenko,” the low-tuned piano is classy but when combined with the kick snap snares and bass; Westside Gunn appears like a worst nightmare. His hook which describes, “Give me two bricks I stretch it to five. Woah, give me two bricks I stretch it to five,” becomes the inception for Supreme Blientele.
Stomping through the ring-like Flair with all the same love for the style as Steamboat, there is a reason why Westside Gunn becomes established this early into his career. The writing on Supreme Blientele is almost always relaxed in delivery even if the world around him is frantic and overwhelming.
Pieces like “Amherst Station” which samples The Sequins creates a love story within a hellscape. In one of the cutest displays from Westside Pootie, Gunn’s daughter illustrates, “…and stop copying off my daddy! Money don’t make you FLYGOD, God is the greatest. And y’all still broke, this is Griselda.”
Almost like an origin story, “Amherst Station” becomes elegant on the ears but tells a story of crime and spilled blood. Westside Gunn illustrates, “Please pack the soda, white Mac 11. Back to back Beamer, now it’s to Utica & Jefferson. Once I drop this new batch, the fiends at your neck again. Hit the roof and tell PO could meet us at the Oakk Room.”
Without stepping foot in Buffalo, Westside Gunn successfully orchestrates and corroborates these touches of culture to the “The City Of No Illusions.”
Later cuts in the record take “SaBu” as this Sadhu Gold production that is immediately reminiscent to MF DOOM with lazer and spaceship sounds echoing overhead. Lightning flashes and craters in the Earth become Westside Gunn’s birthplace. He stomps over the production and instead of acting disrespectful, is actually quite descriptive in this partnership with Sadhu Gold.
Gunn shouts practically, “Ayo, there go Connie’s son shootin’ out the Porsche roof. Praying five times a day, I got court soon. Randy on the porch with his dope spoon, Louie slippers, Louie robes on my mistress.”
As the ray gun continues to fire a beam of pure energy, Westside Gunn continues on. He says, “Gold .40 Cal with the wiped off digits, neck full of riches, watch Ulysses. Mulsanne guts suede, how could you miss us.”
Finishing the verse with one of the most iconic images to flash into the mind, Gunn describes, “All my niggas decorated, Dior trenches. Ask who fucking with me and get crickets. At Mr. Everything, chicken and rice. Rocking heavy bling, you see the difference.”
In this tragic world of death and pain, luxury still reigns supreme and in a coffin filled with Richard Mille’s and Balenciaga coats, Supreme Blientele does a fantastic job of receiving the flowers before the funeral. Gunn is as illustratively interesting and conquering then, as he is today.