Lil Wayne: The Fat Elvis of Rap

Not physically of course—he’s still as thin as a skateboard—but psychologically, symbolically. Take a look at the video (as much of it as you can stand—I barely got through the first minute myself). Even if you assume that he’s talking to the defense attorney in the lawsuit and intentionally being difficult, it’s hard to imagine anyone acting so self-important while at the same time so out of it in every way. But why not? Who can touch him, aside from the feds, and who ever dares to tell him that he’s wrong (aside from the critics he ignores) or that he’s being an asshole? Every time he inhales a blunt he exhales money. Every record he makes, even minor guest spots, makes the charts; every show sells out; every TV appearance—even those where he lip-syncs terrible raps that he had previously apologized for, like he did on the VMA’s—draws waves of adulation. He doesn’t need to do anything anymore (he hasn’t released a decent record since before he went to prison); he only needs to be Lil Wayne. But he’s not allowed to be anything else. Which means the only way he can escape being Lil Wayne is by being nothing at all. That’s how Elvis did it. And that would appear to be the direction Lil Wayne’s headed.