Under the aegis of pop producers such as Stargate (the team responsible for Katy Perry�s �Firework,� perhaps one reason the disc is closer to Perry�s vibe than to, say, Eminem�s), �Papers� suggests an updated version of something by long-ago pop-rap titan Nelly, if Nelly sang a lot about blunts, gold diggers and driving around � which he may have done, it�s hard to remember.
�Rolling Papers� serves up singsongy playground hip-hop and a bumper crop of synthy jams, none of which displays an ounce of excess energy or a hint of venom, even the ostensibly mean ones. On �Rolling Papers,� everything is shiny, everything is cool, everything is mellow. There are even songs on it � ballads! � that sound like love songs.
If you�ve only heard �Black and Yellow,� you haven�t heard the best of Khalifa, who uses the great �Rooftops� to expound upon fame�s more realistic perks. Instead of drinking Courvoisier at strip clubs at 4 a.m., he waxes rhapsodic about eating at Whole Foods and drinking lemonade on fancy planes. �Used to not be allowed in the building?/ But now we on the rooftop,� he crows, though wouldn�t it be better if they let him inside?
Best of all is �Roll Up,� a flawless jam that�s soft around the edges: �All you do is pick the phone up, lady?/ And I�ll be there when you call,� Wiz wheezes sentimentally, adding, �I could be your best friend?/ And you be my homie.� It�s a summery hit in springtime that inhabits a category of its own: the Hallmark Banger.
