In an age where rap icons are either literally pissing on their Grammy trophies or using their own victory speeches to figuratively shit on them, Denzel Curry stands out as one of the few young spitters who’d actually love to have one. From the beginning of his career, he’s showcased a knack for engrossing aesthetics and an affinity for ostensibly challenging big-picture concepts — a constellation of highbrow connotations usually needed for clueless awards show committees to treat rap like a legitimate art form. By his own account, these are the folks Curry has always looked to impress. “I tell my fans all the time: I’m not doing this just to do it, I wanna win a Grammy off this hoe,” he told Miami New Times two years ago. “But it feel like I don’t get recognized for what I do, even though I’ve been doing this for a long time.”

Good as it was, Melt My Eyez See Your Future didn’t win a golden Gramophone, and his latest effort, King Of The Mischievous South Vol. 2, won’t either. The difference is, for his latest, it doesn’t even sound like he’s trying for that kind of validation. Freed from the weight of impressing people who don’t understand your art anyway, King Of The Mischievous South Vol. 2 supplies its own brand of low-stakes thrills for a project that’s more fun than it is meticulous. A sequel to his 2012 effort King Of The Mischievous South Vol. 1 (Underground Tape 1996), it’s raw, yet deceptively well-sequenced; it’s a mixtape that sees Curry let loose in the best way possible.

The project is coated with retro samples fit for an early Three 6 Mafia cassette. It evokes all the throwback, lofi grandeur of ’90s and 2000s Memphis rap. It’s an aesthetic SpaceGhostPurrp, Curry, and the Raider Klan adopted in the early 2010s, which in turn inspired A$AP Mob and others to do the same. For his part, Curry’s latest rendition is more polished. The vocals for the first Mischievous South were muffled, and you could practically hear the lack of a pop filter. The new one is still lofi, but everything is cleaner, which when combined with Curry’s immeasurably improved skill set, makes it easily superior to the OG.

At its best, Vol. 2 harnesses Three 6’s phonk energy for tracks that feel genuinely propulsive. Teaming up with That Mexican OT for “Black Flag Freestyle,” Curry slides across a sinister Memphis synth line with a deliberate flow and casual menace. On his end of things, OT supplies the line of the song: “This Draco built like Bushwick Bill.” When meshed with an acrobatic Mexican OT verse and a symbolic hook, it’s a cut that brims with all the kineticism of a classic Three 6 offering. It’s Mad Max theme music.

With a mix of blown-out bass, ornately aqueous strings, and a simple, confrontational hook, “Gz Up” is a vintage Curry cut that merges raw feeling with verbal athleticism. 2 Chainz matches Curry’s tenacity with his customarily off-kilter punchlines, while Curry’s fellow Floridian imbues the track with dismissive cool. Curry maintains the energy with “Sked,” a Project Pat-assisted single that pulsates with aggression and another surprisingly irresistible refrain. As part of a run that began with “Black Flag Freestyle,” the entire section brims with electricity — of the pummeling beats, the verses and the people rapping them. Stretched over five tracks, it creates a skipless vortex of sound; an apocalyptic joyride designed for night rides following hours of Miami debauchery. If these tracks represent the turn up, the successive two embody the blissful daze of a swanky afterparty, with Curry’s frenzied vocals fading into a dreamy interlude coated in lush piano, reedy strings and faded Curry slick talk. It’s a perfectly disembodied segue into the “Cole Pimp,” an effortlessly smooth mid-tempo slow jam featuring Ty Dolla $ign and Juicy J.

While the middle to end of Vol. 2 is generally strong, tracks like the Ski Mask The Slump God team-up “Hit The Floor” can hit as a bit undercooked; the hook sounds like it was totally freestyled. Then there are also some writing lapses from Curry himself. His more ferocious bars often lack the specificity that make the best street raps. The flavorless threats seem mundane when compared against the likes of 2 Chainz and That Mexican OT, even if he usually makes up for it with conviction. That lack of specificity is a double-edged blade for a rapper straying away from his typically personal bars for raw machismo; the lack of imagination doesn’t always fill in the empty spaces. Then again, the well-sequenced production, along with his guest spots, usually do.

As a project, Vol. 2 gives the impression of nostalgia and contentment. Speaking with the Recording Academy for a recent interview, Curry cast aside concerns about things like acclaim or trivial album rankings — at least, when it comes to Vol. 2.

“I didn’t think about where I’d rank this. We had a whole decade of producing great records, and people look forward to the album experience more than the single when it comes to me,” he explained. “This is what it is, and I just want people to enjoy it. It’s not something to put too much effort or thought into. It’s something you can bump into the club, or you could go to a show and turn up to it. That’s where I’m at with it.” Pretty much me too.

Vol. 2 isn’t a bold statement of purpose like Zuu, Ta13oo, or even Imperial. Instead, it’s a return to a sound and an era that predated any of his thoughts about stream accounts, Grammys, and critical acclaim. Rendered with conviction and a respect for its influences, King Of The Mischievous South Vol. 2 is proof that, trophy or not, dope shit is its own reward.

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