Michael Jack O’Brien
Although Hopsin clearly has some modicum of talent for wordplay and a decent flow, I would be delusional to think that those things justify me listening all the way through this 17-track self-aggrandizing shitshow of an album. As is the MO for Hopsin’s artistic style, the California rapper portrays himself as some sort of hip hop pariah, shunned by his peers who could never see that he is the true savior of the genre. People often equate Hopsin’s flow and lyrical style to an Eminem reincarnation, constantly sniffing their own farts and telling themselves how great they are. In No Shame, Hopsin borrows another note from the Slim Shady playbook and projects a massive persecution complex regarding a falling out with his Australian girlfriend, a violent altercation after which Hopsin was arrested and banned from Australia (although he vehemently denies that he ever got violent, even going so far as to paint himself as the victim—okay, Hopsin). This album is not good, but that doesn’t even scratch the surface—the real cherry on top of this steaming pile of manure is the track oh so cleverly titled “Happy Ending,” in which Hopsin describes in vivid, cringeworthy detail his exploits in an Asian massage parlor vis a vis Backpage. Hearing about Hopsin’s sex life ranks somewhere between “the smell of Dick Cheney’s taint” and “what does hydrochloric acid taste like” on the list of shit I don’t want to know about. But more importantly, the song features Hopsin doing a blatantly racist impersonation of what I can only assume is an Asian accent, which I’m sure went over fucking great with his friends, but sounded to me like the laziest and downright tone-deaf attempt at humor since seeing Louis C.K say the N-word. Egotistical, tacky, and blatantly misogynist, this album is trash. 1.5/10
Listen to No Shame on Spotify below.