Central Cee’s Can’t Rush Greatness is like watching a prodigy go from the underground to the penthouse—and still show up to the party in Air Forces. It’s part autobiography, part victory lap, and part proof that, yes, he’s reading the comments, and no, he doesn’t care what you think. Across 17 tracks, Central Cee blends his drill roots with a global rap sound, wrapping his hustle in just enough polish to feel expensive without losing the grit.
The features are a who’s who of rap royalty: 21 Savage brings his signature “silent but deadly” delivery on “GBP,” Skepta slides in on “Ten” like your favorite older cousin who’s always two steps ahead, and Dave’s presence on “Million and 1” feels like a passing of the torch between two kings of UK rap. Central Cee doesn’t just hold his own—he leads the pack with the bravado of someone who’s seen it all and survived to brag about it.
But it’s not just a flex-fest. Well, okay, it mostly is, but Central Cee knows when to dial it back and let you in. On “Now We’re Strangers,” he trades the booming 808s for a soft guitar riff and gets vulnerable, delivering a melancholy love letter to a relationship gone sour. Think of it as the drill equivalent of a drunk text at 3 a.m.—raw, emotional, and just the right amount of messy. And then there’s “Truth in the Lies,” where he flips Ne-Yo’s “So Sick” into a drill-R&B hybrid that shouldn’t work but absolutely does. It’s like your mate who refuses to dance at weddings but secretly pulls out moves you didn’t know they had.
The production, for the most part, sticks to what Central Cee knows best: ominous synths, crisp hi-hats, and basslines designed to scare your neighbors. But when he steps out of his comfort zone, the results are refreshing. Tracks like “Walk in Wardrobe” lean into minimalist beats that leave room for his punchlines to land, while “Fake Love” edges toward melodic rap territory, proving he’s got the range to do more than just bark over beats.
Lyrically, Can’t Rush Greatness feels like a diary from someone who’s made it out of the trenches but hasn’t entirely left the mindset behind. He’s reflective, self-aware, and often funny in ways that catch you off guard. “She’s got a heart so cold / But looks so sweet, I call her my froyo,” he quips at one point, balancing the humor with moments of genuine introspection about loyalty, fame, and his rise from nothing.
If there’s a gripe, it’s the album’s length. At 17 tracks, there’s some filler—songs that feel like they’re here because, well, the label probably thought 17 looked better than 14. Not everything lands, and a few tracks blur together in their similarity. But even the misses don’t feel like total losses. They’re more like growing pains for an artist who’s still figuring out just how far he can push his sound.
In the end, Can’t Rush Greatness is exactly what it says on the tin: proof that Central Cee is taking his time building his empire, brick by meticulously-placed brick. He’s not reinventing the wheel, but he’s painting it in West London orange and rolling it straight to the global stage. It’s brash, heartfelt, occasionally chaotic—and if you’re not paying attention yet, you’re missing one hell of a ride.
The production largely sticks to drill’s icy framework—snapping snares, brooding synths, and basslines that could rattle your nan’s china cabinet. But it’s when Central Cee strays from this formula that the album really pops. “Now We’re Strangers” dials things down with a stripped-back guitar riff, letting him play the heartbroken anti-hero for a minute. And then there’s “Truth in the Lies,” a surprising pivot that borrows Ne-Yo’s “So Sick” and somehow manages to make R&B nostalgia sound fresh rather than corny.
Can’t Rush Greatness is a bold statement from a rapper who knows he’s on the cusp of something massive. It’s not perfect, but it’s packed with enough charisma, ambition, and earworm hooks to make you sit up and pay attention. Central Cee isn’t just riding the wave—he’s making his own.
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Rating: 8.4/10
