T.I.'s Final Album "Kill the King" Isn't Peak Tip—But It's the Right Way to Exit [Review]

This past March was the 20-year anniversary of T.I.'s fourth studio album, King.

Fans didn't realize at the time, but the moment ended up being a career zenith for a rapper who, in five short years, had seemingly lived the ups and downs of a career spanning decades: a debut that flopped, followed by a breakout hit, followed by a short jail stint, followed by memorable beef, followed by an even bigger global breakout. And from there the ups and downs would continue—a disappointing follow-up album to King, another jail stint, then another smash album in Paper Trail.

In short, T.I. has had a long career. Which maybe explains why he's ready to call it quits. The rapper has released his 12th studio album, Kill the King. It's his first in six years (since the underwhelming The L.I.B.R.A.) and it's easily his best since Trouble Man: Heavy Is the Head in 2012.

The title, Kill the King, has been a concept T.I. has been playing with for years. During a Breakfast Club interview in 2017, he talked about the title, saying: "Ever since my first album, I've put the title of 'King of the South' on me and to make yourself the king is to make you a target…And in chess, the object is to kill the king. So Kill the King is the title of my last album. Will they kill him or will he ride into the sunset happily ever after?"

His comments sound dark. But it doesn't reflect the overall tenure of the album. If anything, Kill the King sees T.I. try to cover as many bases as possible; it leans into the past and star power and it sees him strive to make commercial hits (he has one with Pharrell on "Let 'Em Know") but there is also signs he's playing with contemporary sounds, like collaborating with Youngboy Never Broke Again.

Kill the King is essentially an Atlanta block party, primarily rallying guests from various eras and corners of T.I.’s beloved hometown.

Twenty years after starring in ATL, Tip recruits Summer Walker for a roller-rink-ready anthem (“And Won’t”) that nods to their city’s skate culture. The-Dream sings about lifestyle inflation on “How It Went.” Jeezy and 2 Chainz reminisce wistfully about days of cooking up crack on “Dope Boys Academy”—you can almost see the tears welling up in their eyes. And Usher pops up on “Gorgeous” to help T.I. serenade his wife, Tameka “Tiny” Harris.

Speaking of Tiny, Kill the King is also a family affair; her daughter Zonnique "Star" Pullins appears on "Ego" with OMG Girlz. Their youngest daughter, Heiress Harris, handles the intro ("A King's Thought"). Curiously absent is their son Domani, who appeared on L.I.B.R.A. and is fresh off two blistering 50 Cent disses earlier this year. —John Kennedy

When T.I. dropped “Let ’Em Know” back in January, longtime fans wondered if his recording booth doubled as a time machine.

The raw energy, bouncy flow, and slurred Southern drawl were all reminiscent of his “Rubber Band Man” era. But it’s not the only track that draws from back in the day. Tip channels the past with “Rant,” a vent session that recalls the breathlessness of Paper Trail’s “I’m Illy” while fitting the sonic profile of Trap Muzik—dark piano keys, rapid drum programming, and a wailing vocal sample.

“Pistol on the Dance Floor” reaches back long before trap music, reviving Keith Sweat’s 1987 hit “Don’t Stop Your Love” to create one of the album’s most infectious bops. But not every gesture toward the past works so brilliantly. “Dope Boys Academy” sounds more dated than dope, with a stale T-Pain hook and gong percussion that’d be best left in 2008. —John Kennedy

Dr. Dre chefs up propulsive kicks, snares, and strings for the Anderson .Paak-featured “Where I’m From,” while DJ Toomp’s serene synths color the three-minute lyrical showcase “See Wh’am Sayin.” After lacing “Let ’Em Know”, Pharrell provides another bouncy hit with “I’m Him.” Together, the two songs make you wonder why T.I. and P never locked in and made a full album together.

With Organized Noize, Turbo, and Juicy J among the album’s A-list producers, Kill the King is a musically diverse project that shifts between laid-back lyrical displays and songs you can’t help but dance to.

“Trauma Bond” and “Big Dog,” crafted by Mr. Hanky and former Hitmen producer Andreao “Fanatic” Heard, respectively, each inject life into the tracklist with their live-band energy. The latter, with its electric guitar funk, feels a bit out of place. But “Trauma Bond,” powered by Tuskegee University’s Marching Crimson Pipers, delivers an HBCU-stamped salute fit for homecoming kings and the King of the South alike. —John Kennedy

Over sparse keys and a saxophone riff that evokes Kanye West’s “Drive Slow,” Tip walks listeners to the bedside in hospice care, refusing to accept the reality of the ventilator and the doctor’s diagnosis.

“Now I’m grieving, drunk, just speedin’ in the fucking rain / Beside the pain, I feel nothin’, man / And if I could feel, I guess it’d feel like / A Snowfall episode, my uncle Jerome died in real life,” Tip raps.

YoungBoy Never Broke Again chips in a stellar verse about fake love, survival, and gratitude. But for T.I., “LLOGCLAY” is a rare moment where his steely cool is punctured. —John Kennedy

T.I. built his career on bridging the trap-jumpin’ thump of “24’s” or “Top Back” with pop-rap megahits like “Whatever You Like” or “Live Ya Life.”

You won’t find the latter on Kill the King—and that’s for the best. The big records here (“Pistol on the Dance Floor,” “Let ’Em Know”) all sit comfortably in his lane, while his rhymes reflect the wisened perspective of a middle-aged man who has been rich longer than he hasn’t.

Tip is endearing when skimming through his marriage origin story on “And Won’t.” But more often, he retraces his steps from Bankhead to bankrolls. You hear it on “How It Went,” “Where I’m From,” and “Continental,” where he’s especially prideful: “From the Lincoln Continental on them hammers with the hammer / To the most successful from the Westside of Atlanta / From elementary public school, I've been standin’ on my own two / To Forrest City prison yard, used to get them phones through.”

When he’s not looking backward, T.I. tends to grumble about the present (honestly, same). On “Ego,” he longs for a time when tourists weren’t so abundant in the A. He groans about OnlyFans and declining employment rates on “Represent a Time,” and elsewhere takes aim at “internet cats” (so, like, everybody?). “These niggas, they be suckers for clicks, a bitch for the algorithm,” Tip raps on “Trauma Bond.” “Traded in your self-respect for attention / Nigga traded in your morals for a mention.”

Kill the King doesn’t have the firepower to stack up with gems like Urban Legend or King. But the album stands on its own as a solid bookend that plays to T.I.’s strengths. Time will tell if it’s his last hurrah—the final words spoken on the album are “to be continued”—but if so, Tip can walk away with his head high, and crown tilted to the left, like always. —John Kennedy