<\/p>\n
\n\tEarlier this week, a tweet from a Young Thug<\/a> parody account clowned Gunna<\/a>\u2019s new album, The Last Wun<\/em>, by proclaiming, \u201cNobody wunna hear that shit.\u201d The message went viral as sundry accounts<\/a> spread disinformation that it was from Thugger himself. It served as a reminder that no matter how much the 32-year-old Atlanta melodic rapper has doggedly maintained his A-list status in the wake of the YSL trial \u2013 which he extricated himself from by working out an Alford plea deal with prosecutors<\/a> \u2013 his career will always be overshadowed by taunts from keyboard warriors and former compatriots like Young Thug that he\u2019s a \u201csnitch.\u201d<\/a> As a result, Gunna\u2019s music has acquired an undercurrent of anxious self-affirmation and angry defiance.<\/p>\n \n\tIt\u2019s a marked shift from the way he glided to stardom in the late 2010s with smoothly frivolous boasts like \u201cDrip Too Hard\u201d with Lil Baby. On 2018\u2019s Drip or Drown 2<\/em>, he depicted himself holding an umbrella while underwater, a portrait of sonic liquidity. What is Gunna\u2019s image now? It\u2019s a dilemma that fuels The Last Wun<\/em>, his sixth and reportedly final album for Thug\u2019s Young Stoner Life imprint. Sonically, it doesn\u2019t sound much different from prior projects. The beats, made by producer Turbo and others, are pulsing, bass-driven arrangements that often seem to blur together. At 25 songs, there\u2019s too many tracks, but the effect isn\u2019t necessarily bad. The album lasts a bit over an hour and has peaks and valleys typical of modern rap\u2019s onomatopoeic nature, where verses and choruses float by in a murky, addled stream.<\/p>\n \n\tStill, it feels like Gunna hasn\u2019t gotten enough credit for weathering a life-altering crisis. His 2023 album following his release from prison, A Gift & a Curse<\/em>, was a riveting work<\/a> that added a serrated lyrical edge to his usual catalogue of private jet flights and sex-filled nights. After years of being lauded for effortless flows, unusual bars, and not much else, it finally seemed like he had something to say, if only to defend his honor. The album sold well, largely thanks to its hooky radio smash \u201cFukumean,\u201d but rap aesthetes seemed divided over its merits. (His 2024 album, One of Wun<\/em>, touched on the same themes, but didn\u2019t have the same impact<\/a>.) Could it be that Gunna has grown as an artist yet critics, too bedazzled by the WWE-styled infighting that characterizes rap boys\u2019 club as well as his markedly physical transformation<\/a> from frumpy to chiseled, failed to notice?<\/p>\n